As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (27 page)

Ten past ten.

They’d probably announced the winners of the quiz by now. The band may have even struck up. Hopefully Alex had done his speech and wouldn’t be staying all night.

She raked a brush through her hair. Greg would go mad if she didn’t return soon.

She dawdled back to the dining room, her heart rate snowballing as she bumped into Sylvia halfway along the corridor.

‘Rebecca, dear. You’ve missed the speeches.’

‘Oh, what a shame. I was just getting some air,’ said Rebecca, trying her best to look apologetic.

‘And the quiz result,’ said Sylvia, the edge to her voice bordering on arctic. ‘I’m off to visit the Ladies, myself. I suggest you go and grab that charming husband of yours for a dance before a queue forms. The band is in full swing.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Rebecca, feeling thoroughly scolded.

Relieved to see the lights in the banqueting suite had dimmed, she scanned the tables as she slunk back in. Where the hell was Alex?

More worryingly, where were Greg, his boss and Nina?

Rebecca peered at the dance floor. A seven-piece band were belting out an eighties classic. All she could see was a battalion of bobbing bow ties and a bevvy of ball gowns.

Surely not?
Greg never danced and Rebecca definitely would have clocked Nina’s pink dress swishing back and forth. More likely, he and his boss had popped outside for a celebratory cigar.

She suddenly saw Greg wave at her from across the room. The three of them were standing in a semi-circle, talking to Alex.

Please, no
 … Her stomach tightened. This could
not
be happening. How on earth would Alex cover his surprise when he saw her? He’d have no warning. He had his back to her.

She inched towards them, panic slicing through her as she drew level with them and saw Alex’s eyes widen, his composure rocked for a split-second.

‘Alex, may I present my wife, Rebecca,’ said Greg, far too in gush-mode to notice anything. ‘She’d never forgive me, if I didn’t. Would you, darling?’ He grinned down at Rebecca as though awaiting a pat on the head for good behaviour. ‘How lucky am I to have a wife who not only cleverly produced tonight’s quiz, but loves football too?’ He drew her into their inner cluster.

Rebecca willed her legs not to shake beneath her dress, which made them shake even more. The only introduction Greg had made all night, and it was to Alex. Such a pretentious, syrupy introduction, too. Could things get any worse?

Alex offered her his hand to shake. ‘Pleased to meet you, Rebecca.’

‘Likewise.’ She folded her fingers around it, frightened to lift her gaze any higher than his lips, in case he saw the hurt in her eyes.

Alex withdrew his hand as Nina collared him for some group photos.

‘Seems quite an articulate bloke,’ whispered Greg, choosing that precise moment to slip his arm around Rebecca’s waist and kiss her on the forehead, projecting an image of cosy coupledom. ‘Expected him to have the IQ of a lampshade.’

They all smiled at the photographer.

‘Yes, thick as the proverbial two short planks, most of them,’ said Greg’s boss, under his breath, somehow overhearing Greg above the music.

Yet the two of you fell over yourselves to talk to him and get your faces on film with him, Rebecca wanted to scream.

Pair of judgemental snobs. You don’t even know him.

She saw Alex shake Nina’s hand after the last photograph.

He excused himself, not looking at her and Greg at all, before merging in with a group of guests assembled midway across the suite.

‘Come on, you two,’ shouted Nina, linking arms with Greg and his boss. ‘On the dance floor. Now!’

She’ll be lucky, Rebecca thought, pre-empting Greg’s rebuttal.

Instead he stunned her by saying, ‘Oh well … better show willing.’

Rebecca unravelled herself from his grasp. ‘You go. I feel a bit light-headed,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay here, drink some of this water.’ She grabbed the jug off the table and poured herself a glassful.

‘Light-headed? You haven’t had that much to drink, surely? Is that why you left half your dinner?’

‘Just go and dance, Greg. I’ll be fine.’

‘Yes, do as your wife says, Mr Stafford,’ cried Nina, swooping on him.

However speckled with grey areas this weekend’s itinerary had been, Rebecca had expected to gain answers. She had
not
factored in Alex. Any closure, of sorts, she’d hoodwinked herself into believing she’d had with him in Battersea had re-opened for business with a vengeance.

Desire. Doubt. Hurt. Confusion. All were jockeying for position, crowding her brain, ringing through her ears, setting her teeth on edge, dehydrating her.

Alone at the table she clutched her second glass of water to her chest, hoping that no one would engage her in conversation – not likely as anyone she knew, apart from Alex currently standing diagonally to her encircled by people, was on the busy dance floor.

She’d spied Greg’s boss and his wife swirling this way and that, and Nina’s pink dress through the throng of legs, Greg spinning her towards him then twisting her away.

Look at you, Greg Astaire!

Rebecca hadn’t seen him dance like that in all the years she’d known him. Nina was egging him on, swishing her dress from side to side, pressing against him to whisper something in his ear, playfully slapping his chest. The two of them bumping into the couple dancing next to them, and laughing before wheeling away into another twirl.

Rebecca glanced right at Alex who’d spotted them too. She could tell by the slow swivel of his head as he followed their trail across the dance floor.

What must be going through his mind?

He turned and looked at her – sixth sense, perhaps, that she’d been watching him?

His face said it all; the questioning half-smile, the affection in his eyes.

She subdued the strangled sob mounting within her.

He raised his thumb and forefinger to his ear and mouth respectively in a ‘call me’ gesture. She nodded once, unclear if he meant he’d phone her or for her to phone him.

When?

Tonight? Tomorrow? Next week?

She tensed as he looked away, shook several guests’ hands and strode towards the exit, disappearing out of the suite.

Minutes later Greg and Nina stepped off the dance floor and wended their way back over, Greg’s boss and Sylvia behind, all four of them chuckling at something, a shared joke or observation of some sort.

Rebecca’s pulse rate quickened at the feel of her phone vibrating in her silver clutch bag against her ankle. No way could she check it here. It had to be either Alex ringing her or Abi replying to her earlier text. She must have freaked out after reading Rebecca’s monologue. Her response would be box office.

‘Feel better?’ Greg asked, laying a hand on her shoulder. ‘We were expecting you to come up and join us.’

‘Yes, young lady,’ his boss bawled, pulling out his wife’s chair for her to sit. ‘Give me ten minutes to catch my breath, and a few sips of this rather fruity red here, and you can show me that accomplished footwork of yours.’

Rebecca caught sight of Nina eyeing her. Was that pity on her bloody face?

Half an hour of table chat passed, ninety per cent of it business-related, half of which Rebecca had no idea about.

She had to get out of there.

Greg paused to address her. ‘I can’t believe it’s half eleven already. Brilliant do, isn’t it?’

She waited for Nina who’d so far been hanging on his every word to chat to Sylvia before answering, ‘I think I might go back to the room, actually. That light-headedness has morphed into a headache.’ She ran a hand across her forehead for added effect.

‘Not feeling well, dear?’ Sylvia called out, eyes narrowed.

Oh, lordy, now Greg’s boss was gawping at her too.

‘I’ll take you back upstairs,’ said Greg, his tone conveying sufficient concern for the benefit of their audience, but clipped enough for Rebecca to recognise his displeasure.

‘No, no, you stay here,’ she said, easing sideways off her chair and picking up her bag, circulating her smile to those still seated. ‘The music stops at midnight. I’ll see you soon enough. You have your own room pass.’ She waggled her fingers at Greg’s boss and his wife, with Nina having twisted round to speak to a waiter. ‘Night, night. See you tomorrow.’

They waved back, seemingly convinced.

She bent to kiss Greg, whose glare also diminished and, head held high, picked a path through the tables to the doorway.

For all its blandness their room was remarkably well soundproofed. All that activity beyond their four walls yet she’d not heard a single door bang since they’d arrived. No footsteps above, no flushing toilets, no neighbourly raised voices or muffled laughter outside in the corridor.

She kicked off her heels and sat on the bedside leatherette chair, unclasped her bag and pulled out her phone, fully expecting, had it been Abi who’d contacted her, an equally meaty reply.

She pressed the messages icon.
One new text from ‘A mob’.

‘Being driven back to York. Call me if you want to. Doesn’t matter how late.’

She checked the time received. Half an hour ago.

Poor Alex. He’d stayed so calm, so dignified. What a shock it must have been for him, seeing her like that, meeting Greg under such exceptionally embarrassing circumstances. She’d at least had the benefit of knowing Alex was there beforehand. With hindsight, should she have alerted him somehow? Texted him at the table, perhaps, however tricky it proved?

Marvellous thing – hindsight.

She hit the call button, no thought for what she was going to say to him, any fears she had eclipsed by her need to hear his voice.

He answered his phone inside two rings. ‘
Rebecca?
’

‘Alex, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were going to be here. I’d have stayed at home, otherwise. I feel terrible about it. Especially with how it was left between us in Battersea.’ She gripped the phone to her ear, the fingers on her other hand crossed, in hope that it was still convenient for him to talk to her.

‘Not a problem,’ he said, the gentleness of his tone consoling her. ‘Where are you?’

‘In my room. I couldn’t stay downstairs, it didn’t feel right so I faked a headache.
You
?’ She could hear background traffic noise.

‘In the passenger seat of Mick’s Audi. You remember Mick, the guy who drove us back to Hawksley Manor from Kenny’s cousin’s restaurant? Don’t worry, you’re not on loudspeaker or anything.’

‘It’s okay,’ she said, smiling into the phone. ‘I trust you. Quite an evening, huh? I truly am sorry.’

‘I could say the same thing. You’d still be downstairs enjoying yourself if I hadn’t turned up.’

You couldn’t be more wrong, she thought, wishing Mick would do a U-turn so she could jump in the car and go to York too.

‘Just a second, Alex, you’re breaking up,’ she said, needing to calm herself. She bashed the phone a couple of times as though testing its reception. ‘Sorry about that.’

She heard him sigh, pictured the regret on his face, suspecting he may have heard the catch in her voice.

‘You upset?’ he asked.

‘Better now I’m in the room, thanks. It was the shock of seeing you again. I mean, what were the chances, eh?’

‘I nearly didn’t make it. We had a pre-season friendly this afternoon. Delayed kick-off, so it was a bit of a rush. Anyway … I need to know you’re okay.’

She stood up and circled the room, anything to distract herself from losing it. ‘It’s all been a bit stressful, that’s all,’ she said. ‘Nothing you’ve done. I’m so grateful to you for staying so calm in front of Greg tonight, Alex.’

‘Who was the woman in pink he was dancing with?’

‘Nina O’Donnell, his ex-girlfriend, who is now working with him. An intricate story, I’m afraid.’

‘Sounds it. Well, anyway, you looked beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ said Rebecca, closing her eyes. ‘You didn’t exactly look terrible yourself. I saw how charmed the guests all sharing your table were.’

Alex laughed off the compliment. ‘Great quiz, too. I think I only got two wrong.’

Bless your big, kind heart, Alex Heath.

‘Brains as well as brawn?’ she said, aggrieved at the thought of ending the call. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’ She heard the tick-tick-tick of Mick’s indicator in the background. ‘So, why York? Have you moved into the new apartment you were telling me about? Nosy parker that I am, for asking.’

‘Not nosy at all. I officially moved in yesterday. My brother Rob helped me shift some of the smaller stuff in. He brought Ben, my nephew, with him. I spent about two hours playing hide and seek with him.’

‘Aw, I bet Uncle Alex loves it, really.’ She pictured him, patience of a saint, pretending not to see that little pair of feet sticking out from behind a wardrobe, or if her previous experiences with her youngest niece were anything to go by, a pair of eyes peeping at him over the duvet. ‘How old is Ben?’

‘Three.’

‘Oh, that’s a lovely age.’

‘Well, he’s certainly made friends with Theo, the concierge,’ said Alex, laughing. ‘Kept asking him if he could colour in the huge map of York they’ve got hanging up on the wall in the reception area. Fixated with it, he was. That, and Theo’s shiny bald head.’

Rebecca giggled. ‘Well, better that than any crystal vases or expensive glass ornaments lying around on show.’ She felt the warm buzz of familiarity enter their conversation. Rebecca Stafford talking domestics with Alex Heath. Who’d have thought it? ‘So you’re all settled in then?’

‘Just about. The whole family are piling over for a viewing tomorrow. Busy couple of weeks in front of me. My best mate Scott’s coming up from Reading next weekend, which should be good. I haven’t seen him for four months. A few of us are going out for Jermaine’s thirtieth birthday. You know … the head doorman from Images?’

‘How could I forget Jermaine?’ said Rebecca, visualising his big smile and even bigger hands.

‘Last weekend before the new season starts too.’

‘Well, be sure to make the most of it.’

Alex didn’t respond.

‘Hey, I’d better let you go,’ she said, knowing that prolonging their conversation would only make it harder. It would be foolish too. Greg could walk in at any moment.

‘You know how to reach me,’ said Alex.

‘Thank you. Have a lovely day with your family tomorrow. And a nice weekend with your friends. Oh, and best of luck for the new season and beyond.’

‘Cheers! Take care, Rebecca.’

‘You, too,’ she said, relieved that he hung up before her.

She’d have a shower, that’s what she’d do. Strip off her clothes and her smudged make-up and have a nice, long shower, wash away all the hurt and sentiment. She’d then slip between the covers and awake tomorrow, thankful that it had all been a dream.

Except it wasn’t a dream, was it?

No more than waking up the next morning to a fully-clothed Greg lying on top of the bed beside her, arms and legs spreadeagled like a starfish, was.

How had she not heard him come in?

On the other hand, she couldn’t even remember falling asleep. Sex obviously hadn’t been on his agenda, or he’d have woken her up.

He stirred, one eye popping open, as she eased back the cover and crept out of bed.

‘What time is it?’ he grumbled.

‘Twenty past eight.’ Rebecca peered between the slatted blinds at the outside world, pleased to see no puddles.

Greg sat up, yawning, his hair jutting out in spikes. ‘Bloody good night, last night!’

‘Yes. Very.’

‘How would you know? You only saw half of it,’ he said, laughing sarcastically.

Guilt spiralled through her as she edged towards the space-age-like bathroom. It had taken her ages to figure out the shower yesterday. So many fiddly knobs and dials.

‘Probably better that you left early, anyway,’ Greg added, yawning again and flopping back down.

‘
Oh
?’ She paused in the doorway.

‘Yes … the boss decided to hit the brandies. The three of us sat in the lounge, drinking, until gone two this morning. Lucky we’re not leaving here until later on. I seriously need some breakfast inside me.’

‘Listen, I’m sorry I wimped out last night. I really didn’t feel well,’ said Rebecca, desperate not to antagonise the situation, thinking ahead to the journey home. ‘I hope Sylvia was okay. She did well to last until two o’clock.’

‘
Sylvia?
’ Greg bounced off the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. ‘No, Sylvia retired around midnight. I meant me, Brian and Nina. Nina’s convinced you were overawed by the whole occasion and I agree with her.’ He half-opened the blinds to let in some light. ‘Christ, I feel about ninety. Are you going in that shower, or can I dive in?’

Rebecca stared at him, unmoving. ‘I wasn’t overawed, Greg. I felt ill.’

‘Yes. Brought on by nerves.’ Bare-chested, he pulled her to him, his breath a mixture of cognac and stale cigars. ‘You should have seen your face when I introduced you to Alex Heath. You looked so uneasy.’ He ran his hand over the silk of her nightie, bringing it to rest on her hip. ‘Even before that, at the table, you seemed edgy. Aloof, almost.’ He caressed her backside. ‘I need to teach you the art of nonchalance, my sweet. I’ve never seen you look so bewildered.’

Rebecca bit back her anger. ‘Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot,’ she said, ducking out of his embrace. ‘This is a prime example of what I was saying to you during our chat when I came back from York.’

‘Just stating facts, Rebecca.’

Oh, how she wanted to hit him with what she’d overheard him and Steve Wolfe talking about on their driveway the day after the barbecue.

The temptation to do so forced her to turn away. Greg really thought he was something else, his desire to prove a point to Nina, or whatever it was, totally blinding him to the fact that the woman was manipulating him. Just as she had let him manipulate
her
all these months.

And as for all this ‘we must now act a certain way’ crap.

Judging by Sylvia’s evident compliance, opting out was a no-no.

She spun round. ‘You were extremely rude to me at times last night, Greg. Please don’t treat me like that again.’

He shook his head and made to walk past her into the bathroom. ‘I’m not having this conversation now. I’m too tired.’ He stepped back on a level with her again. ‘I’ve said we’ll have coffee with Brian and Sylvia after breakfast, before the off. I think Sylvia’s keen to snap up your organisational skills, invite you along to one of her mothers’ meetings or whatever they are.’ He waved a dismissive hand in the air. ‘She loves all this charity fundraising stuff. You can get to know all her contacts, nurture a few friendships so when we do eventually have kids, you’ll be a lot better acquainted with everyone. You can design away all you like then. The clientele will be far classier.’