River Deep (20 page)

‘Angie.’ Pete put his arm around her and patted her bare shoulder awkwardly. ‘I’m sure Falcon cares about you. In fact, I know he does. But you’re not happy with this “arrangement”, are you?’ He squeezed her shoulder. ‘So perhaps you should just tell Falcon “mates only” and get on with your life, find someone who deserves you.’

He felt slightly hypocritical, but you couldn’t compare him and Stella to Angie and Falcon. For starters, with him and Stella it was more than just a one-sided fling. Theirs was a grand passion, it was his destiny. And secondly he
had
won her over in the end, despite what everyone else had said. She
had
told him that she loved him, even if it was just before she left. They had a commitment between them now, and he had faith in it, even though sometimes it was difficult. Angie, on the other hand, was wasting her time treading water, too scared to move on from the familiar even if it didn’t make her happy. Any fool could see that.

‘Listen, Ange, Falcon’s a mate of mine. He’s a good bloke and that, and I don’t think he really thinks about what he’s doing to you. If you like, I’ll have a chat to him about it. But look, you’re a lovely woman. A good-looking, funny and, um, sexy woman and there are loads of blokes out there who’d die to get close to you. You just have to open your eyes and see them.’ Angie wiped the back of her hand roughly across her nose, leaving a faintly glistening trail along the top lip. Pete hoped she wouldn’t want to kiss him.

‘You’re such a lovely man, Pete,’ she said, laying her head on his shoulder instead. ‘Your fiancée is so lucky to have you. If I was her I just wouldn’t be able to leave you for a whole year! She must be very dedicated to her career.’ Pete saw no point in correcting Angie and telling her that actually Stella had never had a proper job, let alone a career. Instead he took the opportunity to get up off the bed.

‘Listen, how about you fix yourself up a bit and you and me go out for a meal? We could get a curry down the road and then walk into town have a couple of pints? What do you say?’

Angie’s smile broadened. ‘You don’t have to spend your Friday night with me, you know,’ she said coyly.

Pete shrugged and smiled, because on the one hand the only other people he knew were Maggie and Falcon. Falcon was already out, and he realised with surprise that he had no idea how to get hold of Maggie, which was strange because it felt like they were properly friends by now. On the other hand, he realised that he actually really did like Angie’s company. She was flaky and sometimes a bit overly bouncy, but she was a good laugh.

‘Don’t be mad,’ he told her. ‘I’ll go upstairs and check my emails while you get ready, all right?’

Angie nodded gratefully and began picking up scattered items of make-up from her bedroom floor. ‘Oh, Pete?’ she said just as Pete got to the door. ‘Can we go to The Fleur after? For a drink?’

Pete stopped and looked at her.

‘We can, but you know Falcon will probably be there.’

Angie shrugged and looked apologetic. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘and I know you’re right about the moving on thing. I’m just not ready yet.’

And Pete couldn’t argue with that.

As he reached his bedroom, Pete looked at his PC sitting there innocently in the corner. He switched it on and waited for his Internet connection without much hope; it was more a formality than anything. So when he saw her name in his in-box he had to check it twice and blink hard to make sure it wasn’t his imagination. He looked at the email heading. ‘Hi!’ it said brightly, nonchalantly, like he hadn’t been waiting every second since he’d last seen her for this moment. He opened it up and scanned the brief paragraph quickly before taking in the details. For starters it wasn’t just addressed to him. There were maybe eight other recipients – Stella’s long-suffering mum, a few of her friends and some names he didn’t recognise. He tried to stop his heart from sinking. At least she’d included him on the list, third after her mum and best friend Sunil. That was practically top.

Dear All

Sorry it’s taken me so long to get in touch. Well, I am finally settled in Melbourne and it’s been a crazy non-stop party. It’s a great city, much more chic and cosmopolitan than I expected. Very trendy. I have a job in a French café and I am living over the top of it with a couple of really fun guys which is great because I’ve met a lot of people but better than that I’ve got the chance of some extra work coming up! I’ve met some great people and I love it out here. Will be in touch again soon.

Miss you all,

    
Sx

Pete reread her generic gesture of affection again and again. There was nothing there, no special message for him, no PS. She would have had the opportunity to write another email to him when she sent this, even two lines. But she hadn’t. He closed the mail and then opened it again and double-clicked on her name. The address that came up was one he’d been sending his messages to. So she definitely did have his emails. He closed her letter again and disconnected from the Internet. After a while his PC screen saver came on, the endless wheeling field of stars speeding him recklessly into cyberspace. On the bright side, she hadn’t mentioned anyone in particular, not even her mum. She hadn’t specified whether ‘guys’ was just Aussie slang for ‘mates’ guys or actual men-type guys. ‘She said she misses us all, which means that she misses me. She does miss me,’ Pete told his telescope as he switched off his PC. The telescope had remained shrouded since the moment he’d moved in here. For some reason he hadn’t been able to look at the stars, knowing that somewhere far away Stella was under them too, maybe looking up at them while someone else kissed her neck.

‘Who does?’ Angie stood in the doorway, her hair brushed, her face made up and her mirror-sequinned bag tucked under her arm. ‘Are you ready?’

Pete glanced back at the now blank PC, which still crackled faintly with static.

‘I’ve been ready for ages,’ he said.

Christian was late, but it didn’t matter. It was a perfect evening, the perfect end to a perfect day. The heat of the unremitting sun was still strong enough to warm Maggie’s bare arms, and it dappled the wood of the ancient abbey door, casting and recasting it in molten amber. Maggie felt a moment of pure and perfect contentment.

Everything had gone well at the bank today – better, even, than she had thought it could.

Mr Shah had explained to her that he was doing them a special favour sorting things out at branch level, because they’d all known each other for so long. Apparently, as a young man he’d even spent a weekend with them at some rock festival back in 1970. Maggie suppressed a smile at the thought of the suited and slick Mr Shah in hippy gear, dropping out and tuning in or whatever it was they did in those days.

‘These days it’s all head office and call centres,’ he told them. ‘The last thing you need is some eighteen-year-old stranger sorting out your finances. We go back a long way, and I wanted to help you all that I could.’

Maggie smiled her gratitude, and, handing out the copies of her plans, launched the presentation. It had taken maybe half an hour for her to go through her ideas, her cash flow plans, her graphs and her charts. At the end Mr Shah leaned back in his chair and laced his long fingers behind his head.

‘Well, Miss Johnson, what can I say? You propose to clear your debts with the bank and most of your creditors in one fell swoop. And you want to use your own capital to invest in the pub; I can’t argue with that. As far as this bank is concerned, you are well and truly off the hook.’

Maggie nodded and bit her lip. ‘I know, Mr Shah, but even this money won’t fully refurb the pub, and it will be a good while, years maybe, until we make a return on that. I’m showing you this now so you can see how serious we are and how prepared we are. If phase one goes according to plan, then in due course I will need help in funding phase two and eventually phase three. If the terms are right, I could be giving you that business, Mr Shah.’ Maggie had been practising that particular line all the way to the bank. She thought she’d pulled it off pretty well.

Mr Shah glanced down at her presentation again. ‘Well, Maggie, come back to me in a year and we’ll talk – I’m sure we’ll do everything we can to keep your business here. In the meantime, I must say you have impressed me very much.’ He looked at Keith. ‘You’re a credit to your father,’ he said.

The moment they got out of the bank, Maggie and her parents hugged each other tightly.

‘Maggie,’ Marion said, ‘I didn’t know you could talk like that, that you knew all that stuff. You were fantastic!’

Maggie looked at her mum and realised that her mother hardly ever praised her directly. She flushed with pleasure and felt an unexpected rush of affection for her.

‘Really? You thought so?’ she asked. Her mum nodded and hooked her arm through Keith’s.

‘Well, darling,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘We’ve officially retired. Now all we have to do is make sure we keep your blood pressure down and enjoy the rest of our lives. What do you want to do?’

Maggie looked at her dad’s face. The relief that the burden of The Fleur was no longer his was clearly visible, which made her feel kind of good about her selflessness.

‘I want to be with you every hour of every day for the rest of my life,’ he told Marion, and he kissed her right there, tongues and everything, in the middle of the road. Maggie studied the pavement with fascination for the best part of a minute. Finally she couldn’t stand it any longer.

‘Mum! Dad! Remember the blood pressure!’ Her parents broke apart and giggled like a couple of kids. ‘Sorry, Maggie,’ Marion said. ‘Let’s go back and tell Sheila the good news, and we can open a bottle of champagne – what do you think?’

‘Have we go a bottle of champagne?’ Keith asked her.

Maggie looked at her watch. It was just after three. She handed her dad twenty-five quid.

‘Go and buy one, but, um, I have to go out right now, over to Sarah’s, and then I have this meeting tonight … with a prospective supplier. I really have to go. You lot celebrate without me, OK though? I’ll see you later.’

Maggie kissed her parents and walked away quickly, hoping to avoid any further questions. She didn’t know why she hadn’t told them about Christian. Maybe because she didn’t want to worry them, or maybe because she didn’t want them prying. Or probably because she wanted to keep the secret of their meeting to herself for a few delicious moments longer.

The thrill of anticipation she felt whenever she thought about seeing Christian again face to face was more exciting than anything she had felt before. Better than any first date feeling she’d ever had, and better even than her first kiss with Christian. Because this time all the excitement and newness was mixed up with how perfect she knew they were together. How tender, romantic and passionate Christian could be, or at least had been back in the early days before things all got a bit ‘routine’. There’d be no bumping of noses or the uncertain exploration of clumsy fingers. Each one of them knew the other’s body perfectly, and that, combined with the intense emotional experience of being back with him again, would be the most incredible thing Maggie had ever felt. Maybe this whole interlude really was for the best. Maybe it was just what they had needed to kick-start a relationship that might have been becoming ever so slightly stale. It was like having the best of both worlds after enduring the very worst.

Maggie was glowing as she walked into the Sharp End. She waltzed up to Sarah, whose head was bent over her appointments book.

‘Ms Johnson for her three-thirty appointment,’ Maggie said primly.

Sarah looked up and eyed her. ‘It’s all sorted at the bank? You’re in charge of The Fleur?’

Maggie nodded and the friends squealed with delight as they hugged each other over the counter.

‘Oh God.’ Becca emerged from the flat door and looked at her mum and godmother. ‘I wish you two would stop trying to be young. It’s
so
embarrassing. I’m going to Leanne’s, Mum. Don’t forget I’m staying over.’ She waltzed to the door, waving her fingers over her shoulders as a farewell.

‘I’m phoning Leanne’s mum to check!’ Sarah called after her, her anxiety manifesting as suspicion.

‘What
ever
.’ Becca slammed the door shut, leaving the shop bell jangling in her wake. Sarah gave a little sigh and returned her attention to Maggie.

‘So is this what the trim and blow-dry is in aid of? You want to look all sleek for your first night as manager?’ Sarah’s eyes sparkled. ‘Hey, Sam’s at his dad’s, you know. They’re off at some ungodly hour of the morning to Alton Towers for the day. We could really celebrate tonight, push the boat out! What do you say? A few bars, a couple of clubs?’

Maggie looked at her friend. ‘I can’t, Sarah.’ She paused for a heartbeat. ‘I’m seeing Christian tonight. He phoned yesterday and said he absolutely has to see me.’ Maggie give a shiver of delight. ‘He wants me back, Sarah, I know he does. I heard it in his voice as clear as day.’

Sarah’s expression didn’t change, exactly, it just froze into a grim parody of her delighted grin.

‘How do you know that?’ she asked carefully. ‘Maybe he just wants to talk about your settlement, or something to do with the business.’

Maggie shook her head. ‘I
know
. He’s had an argument with Louise, over me! And as soon as he walked out on her, he phoned me! He misses me! Sarah, he’s beginning to realise that he needs me.’

Sarah banged shut her appointment book with a sharp snap and came out from behind the counter, pointing Maggie towards her chair.

‘And he told you all this, Christian did? In those words?’

Maggie was about to say ‘no’ when she realised that she didn’t really want to tell Sarah about the whole Louise debacle, even if it had paid off in the end.

‘Yes, he did. He told me that,’ she said instead, avoiding Sarah’s eye in the mirror. Sarah separated out two strands on Maggie’s hair on either side of her centre parting and smoothed them down against her jawline.

‘You don’t really need a cut, it’s only just been done. When Luce has finished with Mrs Ellis I’ll get her to wash it and then dry it lovely and straight, OK? I’ve got an army of Friday-nighters due in soon, all hoping six tons of hairspray is going to get them their man.’