As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (32 page)

‘
Do?
’

‘Yes. These are delicate times. We can’t afford any scandals leaking out that might jeopardise our client relationships. Rebecca says she didn’t sleep with Alex Heath in York. Well,
fine
, but is she still in contact with him? How do you know there isn’t any compromising footage lurking, a juicy “footballer seen with married woman” story still waiting to explode? You could be named, Torrison, Rutland, possibly? Imagine the social media frenzy! He’s already been in the news this week, for fighting, apparently.’

‘Really? Must have passed me by. I shall look it up.’

‘Prime time for anyone sitting on any further secrets about him to act, wouldn’t you say? Kick a man when he’s down.’

‘True. But it’d be ten times more damaging for Heath than Rebecca. That’s presuming it wasn’t all hushed up,’ said Greg, his features pinched with contempt.

‘Yes, but we can’t take that risk. Get Rebecca back onside, even if only until the Zurich office is up and running. Use that legendary sales charm of yours.’

‘One eye on the PR angle as usual,’ said Greg, laughing. ‘You should have been a lawyer. I’ll deal with Rebecca, don’t you worry about that. I realise I may have been a bit disrespectful to her regarding the having kids issue, but once I’ve sold her the Zurich offer, she’ll soon support me.’

‘Well, make sure you don’t blow it!’

‘No chance! Anyway, I think this rapport she believes she had with Heath is more wishful thinking on her part. The bloke’ll be draped over someone else’s wife by now. She’s starstruck. Deluding herself. It was a cry for attention, egged on by the best friend from hell.’

‘Of course, the other thing to consider is that she may not want to live over in Zurich with you full-time, which could cause friction, especially if you do decide to start a family. Or, she could get bored and lonely, miss her family and friends too much.’

‘Oh, Bex would never get bored. Give her a laptop and a WiFi connection and she’ll be well away. What she does here, certainly on the creative front, she could easily do in Zurich. She’d cope equally well with remaining here. She’s used to me being away.’

‘Resilient Rebecca, eh?’ Nina flexed her arms, bodybuilder style. ‘Personally, I can’t see her embracing the Swiss vision quite so readily. Although, from a selfish point of view, it would make things considerably easier for you and me, workwise, if she kept the home fires burning here for a slice of the time.’

‘Only workwise?’ Greg ran his finger from Nina’s chin, down her neck to her cleavage.

She trapped his hand with her own before it circled her breast. ‘Hey, don’t go getting any ideas about leaving your dirty socks in my wash basket. These bonus couple of days here together are great, but I’m perfectly happy for things to remain the way they are. Besides, us living and working together would compromise our professionalism. We’re too alike. Let Rebecca do the doting wife bit. My career’s my baby, you know that. Marriage is a swear word. I’m too selfish.’

‘Straight-talking as ever, Ms O’Donnell.’

Greg shouldn’t have been surprised by this, but it rankled with him slightly.

Still, why rock their little arrangement?

Nina was right. He received all the stability he both needed and relished from Rebecca. And with Nina, the true love of his life, on the side in whatever capacity, he had the perfect set up.

He’d return home on Saturday, talk things through with Rebecca, and all would be rosy again. This Alex Heath episode had given him the advantage. She’d be desperate to make amends.

Nina leaned sideways, grabbed the champagne bottle off the cabinet and topped up Greg’s glass. ‘Call me self-centred, but I’m more than satisfied with my win-win side of the deal, thank you very much.’

Greg took a big swig and grinned down at her. ‘You will be,’ he said, climbing back into bed beside her naked body.

Rebecca had been so annoyed about the whole mysterious episode with Greg, especially following his little double-act with Nina in the kitchen the previous weekend, that if he’d walked through the front door anywhere up to Friday night, she’d have flown at him. He hadn’t even acknowledged her voice message about the golf package being re-arranged until mid-evening on Thursday, and that was simply a text saying,
‘All sorted. Back Saturday.’

Had she truly been that hoodwinked? She’d had to call Abi to let off steam.

Now, after an invigorating orange blossom shower and hair wash, a tasty sausage and brown sauce sandwich, and two large mugs of coffee, she felt decidedly ready to face him.

She was upstairs in their bedroom when he arrived home, sorting through a few tops and skirts she hadn’t worn in ages which she’d earmarked for the local charity shop.

He pottered around downstairs for a while, his mobile forged to his ear as usual, chatting, by the sounds of it, to a potential client. When he finally ventured upstairs, he simply leaned against the doorframe in his casuals, wearing his wronged-husband expression.

‘I think we need to clear the air, don’t we?’ he said. ‘Calmly this time. Without any bickering.’

‘
We?
You’re the one who shot off last weekend and has subsequently avoided speaking to me all week. I’ve been ready to talk for ages,’ she said, looking straight at him. ‘And before you drop yourself in it, I know you left the hotel in Birmingham on Wednesday lunchtime. I also know that you and Nina have both been on supposed leave.’ She kept the sting from her voice, determined to retain decorum. ‘If you’d answered the message about the golf club I left on your phone a little earlier, I’d have been none the wiser.’

Greg looked as though he’d been caught shoplifting.

‘What did you do, hire a bloody private detective?’ He stalked past her, cursing under his breath as he reached the window, swept aside the curtain and began peering up and down the cul-de-sac.

‘Well the calm, no bickering approach went well, didn’t it? Why would I hire someone to follow you?’ she asked. ‘Like I said, if you’d bothered to answer—’

‘Yes, I heard you the first time.’

‘Don’t be rude. I’m entitled to an explanation. Were you with Nina on Thursday and Friday?’ Rebecca refused to let him intimidate her.

Greg let the curtain drop and slowly turned round, palms raised in surrender pose. ‘Yes, but it’s not what you think, so don’t start acting all superior.’

‘I’m not. Tell me where I stand. We’ll resolve nothing, otherwise.’

‘I see Wonder Boy Heath has been in the news this week,’ he said, blatantly ignoring her. ‘Caught brawling over a stripper outside some tacky Leeds nightclub. How classy! Plastered all over Twitter, it is. Have you not seen it? Not quite as non-stereotypical as you thought, is he? Makes you realise what a lucky escape you had; how fortunate you are that no public humiliation was caused over your own acquaintance with him.’

Rebecca hid both her annoyance and her surprise well. ‘Yes, Nina already lectured me on that one in our kitchen, if you remember? Don’t worry yourselves, I’ve neither seen nor spoken to Alex since Manchester, so you can all rest easy. As for him brawling, I know nothing about it. I’ve had other things on my mind this week.’

Apart from buying the infamous footie magazine in the supermarket, which had obviously been printed before this supposed punch-up Greg was gloating about, Rebecca had avoided any sports news and social media.

Anyway, what was he on about? Brawling? Yes, Rebecca remembered Alex telling her on the phone that a few of them were hitting the town for Jermaine’s birthday drinks, but surely Abi would have mentioned something if she’d seen or read anything negative. Kim, too. She practically lived on Twitter.

Or would they, given Rebecca’s fragility at present?

‘I thought you gave any tabloid-style gossip a wide berth,’ she said, wincing inside for allowing Greg to suck her in. ‘Stop dithering and tell me about you and Nina.’

‘Okay, I will.’ He jutted out his chin. ‘She and I have been headhunted for the new Torrison Zurich branch, starting, ideally, by the end of the year. Nina flew out there last week. She came back with the CEO on Wednesday. I returned early from Birmingham and had a secret face to face meeting with them about everything in Kensington on Thursday morning. Brian doesn’t even know about it yet.’

‘
Zurich?
’

‘Yes. It’s a sensational proposal.’

Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed whilst he continued pitching it to her, hearing words like: weekly commute, part-time residency, lifestyle, legalities, logistics, as though he was launching a new scheme or product. Maybe he’d just pack a suitcase for her and not seek her opinion on it at all.

Or was she not invited?

‘How long have you known about this?’ she asked, slicing him off mid-spiel.

‘Nina brought it up a few weeks’ back. There are several work/life balance options to consider so I wanted to be sure of all the facts before I said anything to anyone.’

‘Anyone? Greg, I’m your wife! Did you not think something as big as a potential relocation warranted my thoughts?’

She stood up and walked over to him, her eyes as heavy with hurt as his were with indignation. ‘That’s why you were looking at pictures of Swiss chalets on your laptop a while back, wasn’t it? This is the pinnacle of what it’s all been about for you. The endless schmoozing, secret plans, change of heart and apathy towards our own intentions, the big image makeover,’ she said, fanning her hands upwards and outwards. ‘You’ve been obsessed with proving to Nina how successful you’ve become, how admired by your peers you are, how wrong she was to doubt your ambition. You’ve been in denial, like I was about you and the state of our marriage.’

‘Rubbish! You’re overthinking things.’ Greg turned away from her and resumed wafting the curtain, his rudeness, once more, astounding her.

‘Oh, really? I overheard you and Steve Wolfe discussing your past and present relationship with her, amongst other things, when the two of you were standing on our driveway, the day after the barbecue. You left the front door wide open. Why did you dumb down to me the closeness of your working relationship with her? Anyone could see the affection between the two of you at the charity do in Manchester. Look me in the eye and tell me the bloody truth, will you?’

Keep it together. Don’t let him bully you, Rebecca.

He stared at her, poker-faced. ‘Why can’t you accept that my business dealings, however underhand they may appear to you, are all about securing us a better future? After what you got up to in York I’m astonished you have the nerve to question either me, or my motives, full stop. You used to be so understanding. Now you’ve become a paranoid nag. It really isn’t an attractive quality.’

Rebecca felt the blood rush to her cheeks. ‘How dare you! We only moved in here eighteen months ago. Starting a family was our top priority then. You’ve always been busy at work, ever since I’ve known you. It was when you were tasked with organising that conference that things changed. You’ve been on a personal crusade. All those reassurances you fed me after I came back from York, when I tackled you about how unhappy I was, were hollow. It’s project Greg all the way!’

‘Rebecca, listen to me. We have to be united on this. We cannot turn this opportunity down.’ He made a downward slicing motion with his hand.

‘Where did you stay on Thursday and Friday night?’

‘Oh, give me strength. In one of the company flats,’ he countered, looking at the wall behind her. ‘I wanted to be on neutral ground for a couple of days so I could work everything through in my mind a bit, particularly as things have been so strained between us.’

‘Where was Nina when all this pondering at the flat was taking place?’

Greg rocked back on his heels, eyes swivelling ceilingwards. ‘With Charles, her ex. They’ve remained good friends and she wanted his professional opinion on the Zurich offer, so she took a couple of days off. Okay?’ His tone dripped disdain. ‘Jesus, I came here to patch things up, deliver the good news about Zurich, not have a zillion accusations fired at me.’

‘So you haven’t seen her since the meeting about it all in Kensington on Thursday morning?’

‘No, I fucking haven’t!’

Rebecca was inches away from slapping him.

She gritted her teeth and tensed her muscles, the shock of their exchange leaving her brittle. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said.

‘Well, then I may as well go back to the flat until you calm down and see sense.’

‘Fine!’ she said. ‘You do that!’

Greg going back to the flat was for the best, Rebecca told herself. All that spite and angst was counter-productive and unhealthy. The sore knots of tension in her neck and shoulders proved that.

Why hadn’t he grabbed the chance to own up? Surely he couldn’t be holding out for ‘the best of both worlds’ option? He must have known he’d been sussed – all that fidgeting and fluffing the curtains, the foot-stamping, the swearing. Telltale signs that he was lying.

And what of his Alex revelation? True, or plain tosh? Could Rebecca bear to go online to read and analyse every tweet, comment and opinion on it?

It had to be tosh, didn’t it?

She gathered up the charity shop garments, stuffing them into the sack she’d opened out, huffing and puffing as she tried and failed three times to fasten the top of it. ‘Stupid thing!’ Clammy hands and too-fat-a-bag were her problems.

She upended it. Clothes spilled across the carpet. A grey pencil skirt Greg had recently owned up to always hating her in, topped the pile – creased and out of favour – bit like her marriage.

She dropped to her haunches, buried her face in her hands and laughed, too afraid to weep in case she cracked. It was like scaling the emotional equivalent of Kilimanjaro.

Someone please pull off these hiking boots and let me off,
she thought.

Yet, still, a spark flickered deep inside her, telling her to hang on in there.

The arrival of Abi’s text was timed to perfection.

‘Hi, Bex, I know you’re possibly having crisis talks with Greg right now, but if you fancy escaping for a couple of hours, I’m at the summer fete on the green (the green near me with the magnolia tree you love). They have refreshments (wooo hooo!) And country dancing (double wooo hooo!) and your favourite, a tombola!! (a million wooo hooos!). No footie for Nick today. He’s had to work. I’m dragging him off for a curry when he finishes. He’s driving, I’m paying. Poor love’s on antibiotics. Tooth abscess. Ouch! 
☹
Bit better today though. Don’t worry about texting me back. If you can come though, you’ll easily spot me. I have orange hair. (Long story!) Love you. Abi Xxx 
☺
’

Rebecca grinned down at her phone. Yes, she did bloody well fancy it!

She scrabbled to her feet. No need to change. She’d stay in her jeans and yellow T-shirt.

She brushed her hair and tied it back off her face, glossed her lips pink, slipped her feet into her dark brown pumps, and hurried downstairs. Plenty of time to sort out the charity bag later on.

She grabbed her handbag off the back of the kitchen doorknob, checked she had enough cash in her purse, plus her house keys with her – she didn’t envisage Greg being there to let her back in – and set off for the green, roughly a fifteen minute walk away. She didn’t take a jacket. It might be overcast but it was still warm enough for bare arms.

Abi hadn’t been exaggerating about her hair. It blended in a treat with the marigolds growing behind the bench she was sitting on, next to the drinking fountain. Good job she had on her non-clashing, wheat-coloured sundress.

‘I knew I should have let your sis do it,’ she said, pointing to her fringe and laughing as she hugged Rebecca. ‘Fay in IT needed a guinea pig to practice on after work this week for her hair and beauty course. I’d have felt mean saying no to her. Hardly caramel streaks, are they? Nick says I look like a tiger.’

Rebecca couldn’t disagree. All she could do was grin. ‘What did your boss say when he saw it?’

‘Oh, you know Richard. Always tactful. I think vibrant was the word he used. I’d say more fluorescent.’

‘Oh, Abi, you’re such a tonic,’ said Rebecca, giggling as a young man skateboarding past them, did a double-take. ‘I’m sure Kim will be able to tone you down, don’t worry.’

They linked arms and walked towards the dozen or so stalls displayed, bypassing the magnificent aforementioned magnolia tree underneath which sprawled a teenage couple on a picnic blanket, passionately snogging.

‘Love’s young dream,’ Abi muttered.

Their first stop was the tombola stall. Five tickets for a pound. Rebecca won a cuddly squirrel, a bottle of pear cider and an Isle of Wight tea towel.

‘Trust you! I only won a packet of onion seeds,’ said Abi, laughing.

They missed most of the country dancing exhibition whilst Rebecca filled Abi in on Greg’s Zurich bombshell and Alex’s supposed fight, as they sat sharing a large pot of tea and two home-made slabs of walnut cake in the refreshment tent.

‘I’m telling you now,’ said Abi, dabbing at the leftover crumbs with her index finger, ‘the bit about Alex will be utter garbage. I’m not saying there wasn’t a scuffle, but you know how things get exaggerated. He was probably trying to break up a fight rather than cause one.’

They looked at each other, both knowing who’d sprung to mind.

Kenny!

‘As for Greg’s Zurich news …’ Abi shook her head and poured them both a second cuppa. ‘I’d like to say I’m staggered, but after all that’s gone on …’ She rested her spoon in her saucer. ‘Company flat, my arse! He’ll be with
her
, I bet. Sorry, Bex, I know it’s hard to hear.’

‘No, no, I suspect you’re right. After seeing them together at the charity do, and then finding her at my house the morning after I stayed at yours, what other conclusions can I draw? That’s without all his lies to me about their working relationship. What else has he lied to me about? And for how long?’

‘Well, Nick’s not very happy about all this, I can tell you. Especially as Greg had the front to storm round to ours and read us the riot act over what happened in York, acting as if he’s all squeaky clean! Agreed, it wasn’t nice the way he found out about us already knowing Alex, but at least you’ve been honest with him over it.’

Rebecca sighed, giving the toddler beaming at her from his mother’s lap at the next table a little wave. ‘Poor Nick. Is his abscess still giving him grief, bless him?’

‘Oh, he’s over the worst. I’m just glad he went to the dentist promptly. Unlike a certain footballer I could mention who I seem to recall being decidedly non-committal about a check-up for his toothache. Bit of a phobia thing going on there, methinks. Perhaps you should offer to go with him, hold his hand. What a hardship, eh?’

Rebecca smiled as Abi patted her on the arm and winked at her. ‘Yes, he definitely wasn’t keen, was he? It slipped my mind to ask him about it the last time we spoke.’

‘No wonder, really.’

They let a short silence linger between them before Abi leaned over the table and said, ‘You do know that Alex was referring to you in that magazine interview? The Hawksley Manor bit?’

Rebecca concentrated on the flowery pattern on their teapot until the threat of tears receded and she felt composed enough to respond. ‘I so wanted to wish him good luck for today’s match.’

‘Then why didn’t you?’

‘Seemed unfair, I suppose. I remember him saying to me about how intense he gets, focus-wise, before a game. I thought it might hamper his preparation.’

‘Well, I reckon it would have made his day,’ said Abi, sitting back in her chair. ‘The man thinks the world of you.’

They shared a smile.

‘Hey, we’d better push off if you and Nick want to make that early curry,’ said Rebecca.

‘Oh, change the topic, as usual, Mrs Stafford.’ Abi glanced at the time on her Blackberry. ‘I suppose I do still have to shower and wash my orange tufts. I daren’t think what colour the plughole will be when I’ve finished. I may be wearing a balaclava the next time you see me.’

Rebecca laughed as she stood up. ‘Oh, it’s been great this afternoon. I’m so glad I came.’

‘Me, too.’

They parted company with another big hug, both clutching their prizes and promising to speak on Monday. Rebecca would take tomorrow to update her family on the latest chapter, given how supportive they’d been.

What to tell them about Alex though?

She slotted her key in the front door and headed straight for the lounge, switching on the telly. The half-time footie scores had gone through already and the presenters were reflecting on the day’s earlier two matches.

Statton Rangers had won 2-0. They were showing an interview with the manager who looked ecstatic.

Then Alex came on.
Sexy, smiling, suited, victorious Alex.

Rebecca wanted to climb inside the TV and give him a massive congratulatory hug.

‘Bravo! You beautiful man!’ she whispered. The team would probably be out celebrating later. Their game had finished over an hour ago, although Rebecca did recall Alex telling her about all the post-match duties they had to perform.

She rewound the footage.
Oh, that voice!

She must have still been on a high from seeing Abi because in the space of five minutes she’d typed Alex the following text:
‘Congratulations! So pleased for you and so disappointed I missed the game live, but enjoyed watching your post-match interview and will definitely be watching the highlights tonight. Thinking of you. Rebecca x’

She gawped at her phone. Too late now. She’d sent it.

She gulped. With a kiss as well!

Alex didn’t reply.

Rebecca watered all her plants inside and out.

Still no reply.

She washed the kitchen floor.

Still no reply.

She read and answered three surprise and very welcome email enquiries about invitation designs.

Still no reply.

She then took herself upstairs for a quick shower, swapping her clingy jeans and T-shirt for the cooler feel of her turquoise cut-downs and a sleeveless, nude cotton blouse.

Still no reply.

At 6.10 p.m. she was about to go upstairs to find her phone charger, when the doorbell chimed.

Abi and Nick stood in the porch, grinning at her.

‘I thought you two were going for a curry,’ said Rebecca.

‘We did.’ Nick held up a white plastic bag. ‘One chicken bhuna, two jalfrezis, three pilaus, three naans and a few bhajis and samosas. We decided we’d takeaway instead.’

Rebecca glanced across at Abi. ‘Not that I’m disappointed to see you,’ she said. ‘More confused.’

‘Yes, well, Mr Cloth-head here forgot to take any painkillers and couldn’t face doing the whole “sit down, menu and waiter” thing, so we thought we’d get enough for three, see if you fancied a bite as well? I’m guessing you haven’t eaten since our walnut cake?’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘I’m quite hungry now that I can smell that food.’

‘Well, that’s settled then.’ Nick bent forward to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Warm up some plates, girl. I’m starvin’!’

Abi followed him into the hallway. ‘Seriously, Bex, you can kick us out whenever you like. We took a chance, thought you might appreciate some company. I’ve no idea what we’d have done if Greg had been here. We hadn’t thought that far. He’s not, is he?’

‘No. I’m not sure when he’ll return, either, to be honest.’

They sat round Rebecca’s oval dining table, sharing their spicy feast, having accepted that eating on the patio would also mean feeding half the wasp population. Rebecca opened a bottle of Chablis for herself and Abi, with Nick preferring an ice-cold beer.

‘Just the one,’ Abi mouthed to him, reminding him he was driving.

They didn’t discuss Greg at all. Abi had already briefed Nick, so there wasn’t anything more to say.

They did chat about Nick’s dodgy tooth though. And Abi’s even dodgier hair. And the day’s various football results.

‘Can’t believe I had to work,’ Nick grumbled, delving down their complimentary bag of pappadums. ‘First day of the new season and the friggin’ job overruns. I see Statton won, Bex. We listened to it on the radio.’

Silence.

‘Oh, sorry, have I stuck my foot in it?’ said Nick.

‘No, it’s okay,’ said Rebecca, fiddling with her coaster. ‘I actually sent Alex a text when I came home from the fete earlier on, congratulating him.’

‘
Oh?
’ Abi returned the onion bhaji she’d been about to eat to her plate. ‘And what did he say?’

‘Nothing,’ said Rebecca, ‘he didn’t reply.’

Nick shoved another pappadum in his mouth, instantly wincing.

‘
Yet!
’ said Abi, shooting him a ‘please help me out here’ look.

Nick swallowed his food. ‘Yeah, he must have all sorts of after-match commitments, being captain.’ He popped two painkillers into his mouth that Rebecca had earlier left on the table for him. ‘What time did you text him?’

‘Two and a half hours ago.’

‘Oh, right.’ Nick looked at Abi for inspiration.

Rebecca was quite grateful when the landline rung.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, taking herself and her glass of wine out to the kitchen to answer it, praying it wouldn’t be Greg’s mum. Pearl often called them on a Saturday. Did she know about Zurich? Or, indeed, any of it?

Rebecca had left her mobile phone on the worktop and gave it a cursory glance for any signs of fresh activity. Nothing. She really must charge it before the battery ran out.

She picked up the house phone. Not Pearl Stafford calling, but Tim Stafford, in search of his elusive older brother.

‘I’ve left him three voice messages about squash this week and he hasn’t responded to any of them,’ he informed Rebecca, after they’d exchanged the usual pleasantries. ‘I know he ignores me at the best of times, but is everything all right your end, Becky?’

‘No, it isn’t, I’m afraid. Greg’s not here. We’ve been having some serious marriage problems.’ She couldn’t control her voice-wobbles.

Tim sighed. ‘I did sense something was amiss. Are you okay?’

‘No, I’m not.’ Rebecca couldn’t lie to him. She thought too much of him.

‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Take your time.’

She took a great slug of wine for courage and then gave Tim the shortened story so far, excluding Greg’s Zurich news which she felt should come from him personally.

Tim listened without interrupting her, even during the Alex and Nina bits. Rebecca didn’t know if this was a good thing or not.

‘I won’t blame you for thinking bad of me over Alex,’ she said afterwards. ‘I’m sorry if the story seems patchy in places.’