Love Me Or Leave Me (32 page)

‘What about last Halloween for instance?’ Lucy countered, taking advantage of the fact that Kate was here and for once, he couldn’t shimmy out of it with an evasive answer. ‘I haven’t forgotten that particular debacle, even if you’ve decided to airbrush it.’

‘Alannah apologized, and you know that!’

‘It would still help me to talk about it,’ Lucy pleaded with Kate, who nodded and waved at her to keep going.

‘Well, you see, over Halloween last year, Andrew had taken me down to Wexford for a little weekend mini-break,’ she went on, wondering if she’d manage to get to the end of the tale without losing the rag altogether.

‘And?’

‘It was supposed to have been just the two of us, a break from all the tensions at home but then Andrew invited Alannah along too …’

‘… Because I didn’t want her to feel excluded or unwelcome, that’s all,’ Andrew interrupted.

‘… As it happened though,’ said Lucy, picking up the thread, ‘she said she’d prefer to spend the long weekend at the house instead, “just to hang out with a few friends”, as she’d told us.’

Which alone should have alerted my suspicions, Lucy thought to herself. But to be honest, she was just so anxious by then to get away from the little madam, even just for a short break, that she was fully prepared to hand over the run of the house to her while they were gone.

‘Keep going,’ said Kate, listening intently.

‘And … and sure enough, three days later, we came home to complete mayhem. A squad car in our front driveway, the whole works.’

‘Go on.’

‘It seemed Alannah had decided to throw an impromptu Halloween party and it unfortunately spiralled out of all control,’ Andrew explained. ‘A bit like one of those horror stories that you see on Sky News; you know, one of those Facebook parties where word about it goes viral and whole streets get smashed up.’

‘Our entire house was totally destroyed,’ said Lucy, getting angrier and angrier the more she thought about it. ‘Red wine had been sloshed all over our lovely cream carpets, furniture had been knocked; two windows had even been smashed in. I even found a total stranger dressed as Batman puking in the sink of my en-suite.’

Days, that particular row had lasted. Even from a safe distance of eighteen months, it still had the power to make her break into a cold, clammy sweat.

‘How did you react this time, Andrew?’

‘I’m afraid I lost it when I discovered the entire contents of my vintage wine collection had been glugged back by a crowd of boozers …’

‘… who probably couldn’t differentiate between Châteauneuf-du-Pape and Jeyes cleaning fluid,’ said Lucy, finishing the sentence for him.

‘But really, it was unfair to dump all the blame squarely on Alannah,’ Andrew said defensively. ‘Because in actual fact, none of it was her doing. She’d just invited a few close pals, who dragged a gang load with them back from the pub and things had spiralled out of control. She was a victim and not the prime organizer.’

‘You see? There you go again, making excuses and letting her off the hook. Yet again!’ Lucy said, suddenly feeling her anger levels start to shoot skywards. ‘Did it ever occur to you that the girl might just be doing her level best to drive a wedge between you and me?’

‘A great deal of pain and hurt was caused when you and I first got together, you know that,’ Andrew said, looking Lucy square in the face now. ‘You must understand how difficult it was for my family seeing you and I together.’

‘But I
did
understand and I made every possible allowance for that! Surely to God no one can accuse me of acting any differently …’

‘You have to remember that they went through a lot …’

‘Five years ago! And yet you spent our entire marriage paying the price for that?’ Lucy yelled at him, unable to help herself. Now the barriers were really down. Even if she did regret the words the second she saw a familiar look of pain cross his face.

‘Greta was hugely upset at the way you and I moved on,’ said Andrew, red-faced. ‘And of course, the kids took her side. All I asked of you was that you remembered to treat them sensitively and to tread softy. It was hugely difficult for them.’

‘So why can’t you for once accept that it was bloody difficult for me too?’

‘You have to appreciate I may have divorced their mother, but I certainly didn’t divorce my children too! After all, family is family.’

‘I know that and I tried to build a good relationship with them! Tried till I was blue in the face! And in return, all I got was either downright rudeness or else they patently ignored me! I know it was hard for them, but when are you going to realize that it was fecking well tough for me too?’

‘Please don’t swear …’ Andrew said loudly, which worried Lucy, but then he never raised his voice, on any pretext, ever.

‘Just once, Andrew, just bloody once, I wish I had a husband who was actually on my side!’

‘Excuse me for interrupting,’ said Kate. ‘But given that this is how you both feel, then I have to ask … why did you ever get married in the first place?

Dawn.

Division of property and joint assets. If you could possibly believe that a couple like herself and Kirk could have even found two minutes, never mind a full morning, to spend time discussing that. Division of what exactly, Dawn had wanted to laugh. Our rented flat? The telly my Mum gave us as a wedding gift?

Their little spelt import business, which Dawn was so proud of, Kirk had wanted to hand entirely over to her, but she’d insisted on splitting the proceeds fifty-fifty. After all, they’d set it up together and he did an equal share of work. It was the fair thing to do, the right thing to do. Even if she was still so angry that she could barely make eye contact with him, she at least knew that much.

And now here she was, with an hour-long breather to herself, until whatever their next session was; Dawn hadn’t even bothered to check. Instead, she wandered off to the relaxation room and finding it empty, headed over to a soft cushy recliner over by the window to pass the time there.

Beautiful spot too, she thought, kicking off the flat ballet pumps she was wearing and curling up. She was right by a floor to ceiling window that overlooked the stunningly manicured garden below and wasn’t sure whether it was the lack of sleep from last night, the fact that all the tension between her and Kirk was taking so much out of her, or just the warm, sundrenched room, but pretty soon, drowsiness got the better of her.

Not long afterwards, Dawn woke to the sensation of someone gently tucking a warm blanket over her and slowly opened her eyes. There, silhouetted against the sunlight, was Chloe’s pretty face looking right down on her, like a kind of lovely, gentle guardian angel.

‘Shhh, go back to sleep, sweetheart,’ Chloe said softly, ‘you looked like you were deep in dreamland.’

‘I was … and thank you.’

‘Everything okay, I hope?’

‘Maybe not just yet,’ Dawn smiled drowsily, ‘but you know what? I’m really starting to feel like I’m finally getting there.’

‘Oh you’ll get there alright. Trust me. You’ll definitely get there.’

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chris was busily heading downstairs towards Chloe’s office, clutching a rough draft of that evening’s menu, which their head chef needed Chloe to sign off on. She never seemed to have a minute to herself round here, it was all go, go, go, and yet, somehow Chris didn’t mind the tiredness and emotional intensity. All down to Chloe really, she thought, and how amazingly easy she was to work for.

She was one of those rare General Managers for whom nothing was a problem and who just mucked in and got on with it, same as everyone else. So unlike other GM’s Chris had worked for in the past. No doubt about it, she loved working here and really wanted to support Chloe every way she could. This opening weekend just meant so much to them all, particularly with the added pressure of Rob McFayden in situ and watching everything unfold live.

Anyway, Chris was just skipping down the last few stairs and heading for the main entrance hall, when she noticed a short-ish, bald guy standing over by Reception, wearing a neat navy suit and tie, looking like he’d just come from work. Not a guest either, which immediately alerted her.

‘I’m here to see Chloe Townsend,’ he was telling Liliana at Reception.

‘I’m afraid Ms Townsend is in meetings all morning and can’t be disturbed,’ Liliana patiently explained. ‘But if you’d care to leave your name, I’ll be sure to tell her you called.’

‘I’d much rather see her actually,’ baldy-headed guy insisted. ‘Can you at least let her know I’m here? I promise, she’ll want to see me too. Just tell her Frank is waiting at Reception for her.’

Bloody hell, Chris thought, stopping dead in her tracks. That’s the guy who sent her that massive bouquet for our opening. Immediately, she stepped over to him, smiled and shook his hand.

‘Hi there, I’m Chloe’s assistant,’ she explained. ‘And don’t worry a bit, I’ll be sure to let her know you’re waiting here to see her.’

*

About half an hour later and Chris was busy working away down at her desk, when suddenly Rob McFayden stuck his head around the door. Chris normally tensed up just at the sight of him and yet not this time. It was strange, she thought, but he seemed so much more mellow and chilled-out this weekend, not a bit like the Rob McFayden she knew of by reputation.

‘Any sign of Chloe?’ he asked. ‘I’m been looking all over for her.’

‘Oh, she’s just taking a short break right now. An old friend of hers called to see her and I think they went out to the garden.’

‘An old friend?’ Rob asked, with a raised eyebrow.

‘Yes,’ Chris smiled helpfully. ‘Actually, the same guy who sent her that enormous bouquet on her desk. Someone called Frank?’

Chloe.

Jesus. He’s here, actually here, in the hotel. Just turned up like a bad penny. As soon as Chris alerts me, the jittery shakes start, so I bolt to the staff loos to take a minute to compose myself. A tiny splash of cold water on my temples, a dab of lip gloss so as not to look like I’m trying too hard and next thing, I’m clickety-clacking up the back staircase to meet him.

Stay cool, Chloe girl. Just remember he’s now on your territory, so just cling tight to that advantage.

‘Frank.’

Ridiculous opener, but somehow, now that the moment had come, it was all I could think of to say. Funny, but I’d rehearsed and rehearsed this moment in my head so many times, and yet now that it’s actually come to pass, the power of speech seems to have deserted me.

‘Hi,’ he says, giving me this quick up and down glance, a mannerism of his that I’d completely forgotten about. ‘You look well, Chloe. And you’re doing really well here too. I mean, General Manager at a new Ferndale Hotel. Pretty good going.’ He breaks off here to whistle, as he glances round the hallway, sharp eyes taking everything in.

Little piglet-y eyes, I suddenly find myself thinking. Too close together for their own good. Always thought so, but it’s only now I’m somehow able to properly articulate the thought without feeling any disloyalty. Without feeling anything in fact, which takes me by surprise.

‘It’s good to see you, Frank,’ I tell him as briskly as I can, arms folded, heel tapping nervily. ‘But I’m afraid I don’t have time to talk just now. You’ve called at a rotten time …’

‘Yeah, yeah, sorry about that,’ he says, eyeing up the ornate furniture so closely, you’d swear he was about to bid for it at auction. ‘Wow, this stuff must have cost Rob McFayden a fortune! And those carpets too … cashmere! Not cheap.’

‘Frank, I really can’t do this now. You have to understand that it’s …’

‘… That it’s your opening weekend. Don’t worry, I won’t stay, I know you’re probably run off your feet. Just wondered if you and I could have a quick word?’

Part of me wants to say, ‘Did you even hear me? Do you know how busy we are in here?’ and yet part of me is completely intrigued. So I give a quick, curt nod and barely before I know what I’m at, I’m ushering him through the bar and out to the terrace.

Quieter out here, is my reasoning. More privacy. After all, I’ve waited eons to play this out, a bit of discretion is no harm. Frank follows me, taking everything in, as ever missing absolutely nothing. We step outside to the terrace and into the warm sunshine as I turn to face him full on, determined not to blink first. Pride, etc.

Meanwhile he shuffles about for a bit and plays nervously with the bald pate at the back of his head. So he’s nervy too. Good. And that’s yet another mannerism of his I’d totally blanked out. Nothing wrong with it, I’d just … forgotten, that’s all.

‘So, did you get the flowers I sent?’ he asks out of nowhere, piglet-y eyes on me as I’m suddenly jolted back into the world of manners.

‘Oh, ehh … yeah. Yes, I did. They certainly came as a surprise, to be perfectly honest –’

I’m about to tack on, ‘plus given what you put me through, it’ll take more than a bunch of roses to make amends,’ but he interrupts.

‘Got them in that posh florist on Dawson Street. You know, that really flashy, expensive one.’

And then, unbidden, another whole set of memories start to resurface. The really irritating way Frank would splurge out on you and then spend the next month reminding you of just how much it cost him in the first place, thereby taking all the good out of it.

‘Look Frank,’ I tell him, foot still tapping away like a jazz dancer’s. ‘Just calling in like this … it’s … well, I have to ask you straight out. Why are you here? Why did you come?’

‘Well, there is something actually,’ he says, shuffling awkwardly and avoiding my direct gaze. ‘I mean, you know how tiny our industry is, Chloe. I hear things. And the word on the street is that you’re doing brilliantly here.’

‘Oh … well, thanks, I suppose,’ I say uselessly.

‘And in fact, that’s part of the reason I’m here.’

‘
Part
of the reason, Frank?’

He shuffles around the terrace a bit, checking out the patio heaters and ostensibly taking in the view over the gardens below. Though I know by now there’s something else on his mind. The fidgetiness alone is a dead giveaway.