As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (25 page)

Rebecca didn’t understand.

‘And a very attractive compromise at that,’ Steve said, letting out a snigger so lecherous it made Rebecca shudder. He also added how he’d never have guessed Greg had been harbouring such resentment towards Nina as they’d seemed so chummy at the conference. ‘Dangerous game you’re playing there, buddy. How does Rebecca feel about the two of you working so closely together for the next year or so? Let’s face it, some of these clients, however top-drawer they are, need bloody spoon-feeding. No room for sexually-charged in-fighting.’

Hmmm … Not quite the impression Greg had given her.

‘Don’t worry about Rebecca,’ said Greg. ‘She’s cool with it.’

‘What, all those hotel stays, long boozy lunches and cozy late night meetings? Are you sure about that?’

Rebecca heard Greg cough, knowing without even looking, that Steve had overstepped the mark on the ‘lads speak’ front.

‘So, is there a Mr O’Donnell?’ asked Steve, quickly realising this too.

‘Ex-boyfriend, if you can call a sixty-odd-year-old that.’

Dammit!
Someone’s car alarm had gone off.

Rebecca edged perilously close to the front door in time to hear Greg add, ‘Got him wrapped round her little finger, she has.’

Bit like you, Greg, she thought, closing her eyes, the hurt sucker-punching her abdomen.

As hypocritical as she felt about Alex, this far outweighed it. Greg had not only been lying to her all these months, but to himself as well. No wonder he’d changed so much. He’d been obsessing about Nina, intent on getting one over on her at the expense of everything.

Rebecca felt like a pawn in an intricate game of cat and mouse. Great big fat pieces of the jigsaw puzzle thundered into place around her.

She was fortunate that Greg didn’t discover her cowering behind the door. She’d completely switched off from the conversation outside. It was only hearing Steve snort like a pig and say, ‘Lucky bastard!’ that alerted her.

Lucky in what way? Sexually? Financially? Professionally? All three?

‘No comment,’ she heard Greg reply, slapping, presumably, either Steve’s back or his arm. ‘Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and Steve, I’d appreciate a little discretion, especially with next weekend’s big charity event looming. I know you aren’t going, but I don’t want an atmosphere whilst I’m there. We’re on show, remember? It’ll be awkward enough introducing Rebecca to Nina, as it is. My wife trusts me implicitly. Let’s keep it that way.’

The irony in Greg asking this of Steve womaniser Wolfe would have made Rebecca clutch her sides laughing if she hadn’t felt so dejected.

The smell of cut grass wafted in through the porch, tickling her nostrils. ‘
At-chooooo!
’ She legged it down the hallway as another sneeze threatened, making it into the kitchen as she heard the front door shut.

Greg ambled into view. No apology for the way he’d spoken to her earlier. No mention of Nina, either. Her predicament with him, it seemed, was far more serious than she’d feared.

Rebecca had rarely rendered Abi speechless, but having conveyed the previous week’s events to her, could definitely credit Monday evening as one such occasion.

They were sitting in their local Wetherspoons pub, sharing a bowl of nachos. Three times Abi had leaned forward to pass comment, only to spring back, rap her indigo-painted nails on the table, pop another nacho in her mouth, take another swig of her rosé spritzer, and simply shake her head, her expression half-disbelief, half-fury.

Rebecca imagined her brooding:
BBQ … GREG … STEVE WOLFE … NINA …
Round and round on a constant loop …
ALEX … BATTERSEA PARK … KENNY’S FLAT …
Revelation
upon revelation.

‘Just so I know I haven’t paraglided into la-la land,’ Abi finally said, eyes ablaze. ‘This charity do on Saturday,’ she exhaled, dragon-like, ‘even discounting what you overheard Greg and this Steve guy talking about on your drive, he honestly expects you to grin, shake hands and make small talk with Nina, after all the aggro he went through over her that impacted on you?
Yes?
’

‘More than likely,’ said Rebecca, anticipating precisely that.

‘All those dark days you spent coaxing him out of his cave, making sure he ate properly, demonstrating the patience of a thousand saints.’

‘Abs, you’re making me sound like Mother Teresa which we both know I’m not—’

‘Hold on, lady! Scrap the whole meeting Alex in Battersea thing for a moment which, although I’m gobsmacked about, makes me secretly want to squeal with delight,’ said Abi, slapping her hand on the table. ‘Even excluding my grudging admiration for your staunch loyalty to Greg thus far, and allowing him vast quantities of slack for being sucked into all the “my house is bigger than your house” crap … he
has
to be having a freakin’ laugh?’

‘
Go on, girl!
’ shouted a young man sitting with a group of his friends in the booth behind.

Rebecca saw them all look at each other as if to say, ‘bloody hell, wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of that one, boys!’ and braced herself as Abi re-lubricated her vocal chords.

‘No wonder you’re losing weight!’ said Abi just then. ‘I mean, I confess I hadn’t ruled out Greg’s behaviour being woman-related, not Nina O’Donnell woman-related, admittedly, that’s lunacy, but all this other stuff too, the personal agenda, what Steve said to him about cosy lunches and hotels. I’m sorry, but something doesn’t add up.’

The waiter clearing away their plates and glasses bowed his head.

‘Look, I can’t believe Greg would risk getting intimately involved with Nina again. I just can’t,’ said Rebecca, uneasy with the whole hung, drawn and quartered conversation tone. ‘I’d imagine a percentage of what I heard him and Steve discussing was boys’ bravado.’

‘Yes, well, I think Greg sees himself as untouchable. Status and power can do strange things to a person’s head, never mind their ego. I see it all the time at work.’

‘You may well be right, but I also know the old Greg. As for Saturday, I shall retain my dignity and reserve judgement until after I’ve seen the two of them together. I can hold my own. Don’t you worry about that.’ Rebecca’s voice belied her inner disquiet. ‘I agree he’s grossly underplayed their relationship to me, but I’ll get to the truth. I do accept it’s a mess though.’

‘Soap opera, more like.’ Abi linked her hands through Rebecca’s. ‘Good to hear you sounding so defiant.’

‘I have to be.’

‘And Alex?’

‘I daren’t talk about him.’

Abi looked at her consolingly. ‘I do wish you’d stop persecuting yourself.’

‘It’s the only way I can deal with it. I’m married. End of. Let’s talk about you and Nick instead. I’m so pleased you’re back together. The one bright star amidst all this mayhem.’

‘Yes, well I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve filled him in on the Greg/Nina situation. Not this latest bit, obviously, just about who she is, that she’s back on the scene, etc. I thought it might help explain a few things. Nick’s as concerned about you as I am. You know he has a major soft spot for you.’

‘And I him,’ said Rebecca, feeling a sibling-like twinge of affection. Poor Nick. Since he and Abi had been together he’d taken so much stick from Greg, yet had always maintained his cool. Well, in front of Rebecca, anyway. Privately he must have wondered why she’d married the man, having mainly only seen the pompous side of him. It was better that he knew how things stood.

‘You okay, Bex?’

‘Fine,’ she fibbed. ‘And of course I don’t mind Nick knowing everything. It makes sense.’

‘You’re not fine at all, but I know better than to push you. Now, indulge me with a description of the knockout creation you’ll be wearing to Saturday’s fundraising extravaganza.’ Abi pushed aside the salt and pepper pots and leaned further across the table.

‘Blue halter-neck with the sequined edging I wore to Greg’s mum’s birthday do.’

‘Perfect! You look stunning in it. Are you staying over?’

‘Supposedly. Unless I end up insulting Nina, then I’ll be hitching a ride back on the nearest milk float. I so hope Greg doesn’t go overboard with his Johnny Big Cheese act in front of everyone or I may lose it with him completely.’

‘Oh, goodie!’ Abi tapped the side of her glass with her nails. ‘My presenter stance, in case you were wondering …’ She counted herself in. ‘Er … Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Here are your news headlines.’ She gave another little tap. ‘
BOING!
Furious wife dunks husband in punch bowl at swanky black tie event.
BOING!
Before trifleing
his ex.’

Rebecca squealed with laughter. ‘Oh, don’t! I’ve already coleslaw’d his boss’s wife. Can you imagine the rumpus?’

‘Every divine second of it,’ Abi cackled. ‘You must text me a sly photo of Nina so I can visualise her covered in raspberries and custard.’

‘You’re on!’ Rebecca took out her purse to go and get them another drink. ‘Please tell me we’ll never lose our zany togetherness,’ she said, leaning across the table and planting a kiss on Abi’s cheek.

‘Not a chance, kid. I know your head’s in turmoil right now, but it’ll all come good. I can feel it in here,’ said Abi, covering her heart.

‘I hope so,’ Rebecca said, heading over to the bar.

Come Saturday morning, Greg’s pre-event enthusiasm levels had all but peaked to a crescendo. Rebecca had even noticed shades of the old Greg seeping through. He’d been fussing around her more all week, cracking the odd funny, switching off his laptop at a reasonable hour to join her on the sofa in front of the telly. It was as though he knew she’d overheard him talking to Steve Wolfe. Either that or he’d bugged the conversation she’d had in the pub with Abi.

Now he was exchanging little goodbye waves with Shirley next door who, lord love her, had happened to wander out to sweep her already-spotlessly-clean pathway as they’d loaded up the car with overnight bags and fancy eveningwear.

Rebecca was surprised Shirley still spoke to Greg, given his largely obnoxious attitude towards her. She’d often throw Rebecca sympathetic looks behind his back. Quite what she made of them as a couple was anyone’s guess.

Rebecca gave her an extra big smile as they pulled off the drive.

She realised, as they stopped to fill up at the nearest petrol station, that this journey would probably represent the most time she and Greg had spent together in one hit in ages.

The perfect chance to re-bond a little, perhaps?

Her stomach still knotted with dread at the thought of the evening ahead, but maybe the previous week’s extra shifts in the shop, paired with her remarkable willpower to avoid ‘all things Alex’ – TV, internet, or social media-wise – were all positive signs. She even texted Abi as much from the station forecourt, who would undoubtedly assume Greg had brainwashed her.

Her response to Rebecca was priceless:
‘Don’t forget to snap neurotic Nina, and if she goes to hit you first, DUCK! Oh, and we may have to wait until the back end of next week to catch up properly. I’m being sent on some training workshop
☹
Keep me posted via text though! Don’t take no shit! Love Abi Xx’

Rebecca smiled to herself.

She watched Greg tuck his petrol receipt in the front pocket of his jeans as he strode back past the petrol pumps. An achingly normal scene, like they were off on a daytrip to Southend or something. The car breathed familiarity; packet of extra strong mints on the dashboard; box of tissues; pine-scented air freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror.

So natural and easy-going. An opportunity to chat openly and honestly, to re-visit, re-cap and review.

How odd that as soon as they were back on the road, Rebecca’s nerve went.

She glanced sideways at Greg, at his hair, so dark, save the few grey flecks nestling at his temples. The complete opposite, colouring-wise, to herself. She and Nina looked nothing alike, either; the only photo of her Rebecca had ever seen being an old one Greg had once kept in his wallet.

How would Nina look tonight?

Greg’s cell phone rang, disturbing her thoughts. ‘Hands-Free, connected via Bluetooth,’ as he so delighted in telling her whenever she pulled her ‘I wish you wouldn’t chat and drive at the same time’ face.

‘Mr 
Baines!
’ The derision in Greg’s voice can have left his caller in no doubt of the trouble he was in. ‘Forget my number, did you?’

Thus followed fifteen minutes of the most patronising pomposity towards a junior salesman Rebecca had ever had the displeasure of hearing Greg spout. On a weekend, too. The poor man must have felt wretched.

She stared left out of the window at the laughing, rosy-cheeked couple towing their caravan along the inside lane, sadly knowing in her heart that a part of her had irrevocably cooled towards Greg.

They arrived in Manchester early afternoon, with Greg pointing out various clients’ office blocks or the odd gallery or museum to her on the way to the hotel. He hadn’t mentioned Nina once. Perhaps if she had arrived early as well they could say hello to each other, break the ice a bit before this evening.

‘Voila!’ Greg declared, driving into an enormous car park.

Rebecca gazed up at the giant glass construction before them. Impressive, yes, but compared to Hawksley Manor, soulless.

She pulled her little white cardigan around her shoulders as she stepped out of the car. They might not be getting the famous Manchester rain she’d so often heard about, but it was significantly cooler than London.

They breezed through check-in, with Greg introducing her to the concierge, letting everyone within earshot know, as he pointed out the restaurant, the direction of several function suites and the spa to her, that they were here for tonight’s big fundraiser.

Facilities-wise, Rebecca couldn’t fault their room, just the newly-refurbished smell. Not unpleasant, more sterile.

Her nerves kicked in as she unpacked their holdalls. Thank goodness Greg’s boss and his wife were coming. Mingling with people didn’t usually faze her, but right now she’d have rather been at home cleaning the oven with a toothbrush. All that joking with Abi about trifle and punch bowls had now eluded her.

There would be no ice-breaking with Nina over a quick afternoon cuppa, either. Her text to Greg shortly after they’d arrived had stated quite clearly that she’d see them for pre-dinner drinks in the orangery at 6.30.

The orangery, eh?

Greg’s last minute pep talk on corporate etiquette nearly tipped Rebecca over the edge. Exactly how many friends and colleagues of his had she entertained over the years? The disastrous barbecue still rankled with him it seemed.

‘You look beautiful,’ he said, coming to join her at the mirror. She’d left her hair down, jazzed up the sides a bit, rather than risk a huge bouffant in the hotel salon.

‘You don’t look too bad, yourself, Mr Stafford.’ She turned to face him, breathing in his signature fragrance and straightening his bow tie. He’d want to make love to her later. These business bashes always fired him up – the adrenalin kick, endless popping of champagne corks. Nights like these were what Greg lived for. Especially now. As did Nina O’Donnell, no doubt.

Greg dropped a kiss on Rebecca’s bare shoulder and handed her silver wrap to her. ‘Ready, darling?’

So funny how he only ever called her darling at his work events.

‘Just about,’ she said, offering up a silent prayer.