Take a Chance on Me (11 page)

Cleo changed out of her uniform into combats and a hoodie, then set off across the green. As she crunched through the snow towards the lit-up pub, she heard a chorus of cheers and whistles emanating from within, followed by someone who didn’t sound a lot like Elvis launching into ‘Hound Dog.’

Looked like they were having an impromptu karaoke night.

A rush of warmth and noise greeted her as she pushed open the door. She’d guessed right about the singer. Frank, the landlord of the Hollybush and a lifelong Elvis fan, was clutching the microphone and swiveling his hips. His audience was applauding and yelling encouragement. There was Ash, observing the proceedings from the safety of the bar. A little way away, Fia was clapping wildly. And next to her, holding a pint of Guinness and grinning at Frank’s more extravagant pelvic thrusts, was Johnny LaVenture.

‘What’s going on?’ Joining Ash, Cleo gave him an accusing nudge.

‘I didn’t know what to do with her, did I?’ Ash wasn’t looking too thrilled either. ‘We sat and watched TV for ages. Then it got to five o’clock and she saw the lights coming on outside here and there was still no sign of the RAC, so I thought why not, it’d be something to pass the time. Then just after we arrived, Johnny and his crew came piling in.’ Dryly he said, ‘That’s when she perked right up.’

‘But eventually the RAC did turn up.’

Ash nodded. ‘They did. And they got the car going in five minutes flat. But then Johnny persuaded her to stay for one more drink… then another… and she’s been here ever since.’

‘Oh God.’ Cleo groaned and looked over at their unwanted guest. ‘Is she completely wellied?’

‘Not yet. But give her time.’

Frank’s moment in the spotlight had come to an end and he was now shamelessly milking the applause. Leaning across to whisper something in Johnny’s ear, Fia confidingly clutched his arm.

‘So what did she tell you about Will?’

‘Not a lot.’ Ash shrugged. ‘He’s a dickhead, it’s over, she’s leaving him. That’s pretty much it.’

Yet again, Cleo felt the weight of a responsibility she didn’t deserve. ‘Those poor kids.’ Flinching, she said, ‘Oh help, and now she’s going to sing…’

A roar went up as Fia took Frank’s place on the tiny raised stage. Call it instinct, but Cleo guessed at once that this was her first close encounter with a karaoke machine. Seizing the microphone and blasting everyone’s ears with high-pitched feedback, Fia announced, ‘My husband cheated on me and as from today, my marriage is
over
. But guess what? Life goes on and he’s the one who’s going to be missing out. Because I can promise you one thing. I-I-I… wiiiiiillll… surviiiiiiiiive!’

More cheers as the opening bars of the great Gloria Gaynor classic filled the pub. Fia’s singing voice was way worse than Frank’s, but what she lacked in vocal skills she made up for with reckless alcohol-fueled enthusiasm. Johnny’s painters and decorators all joined in the chorus, everyone was clapping and stamping their feet, and Fia carried on singing her heart out.

At last, the song was over. Having soaked up the applause, she jumped down and returned to Johnny, who was looking after her drink. Cleo watched as he put a reassuring arm around Fia’s shoulders and gave her a congratulatory you-did-it hug.

‘Right, I’m off.’ Finishing his own drink, Ash said, ‘I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.’

Moments later, spotting Cleo, Fia came over.

‘Hi! Did you see me up there? I’ve never sung karaoke before in my life!’

And if she knew what she sounded like, she’d never do it again. But that was mean, and it was beside the point—it had been the very
act
of singing that had been cathartic—so Cleo said, ‘You were… incredible.’ Because she’d certainly been that.

Joining them, Johnny said easily, ‘Didn’t she do well?’

‘Gosh yes. Really brave. So!’ Cleo turned brightly to Fia. ‘Your car’s all fixed!’

‘Yeah, the chap was really nice. He couldn’t stop apologizing because of the wait, but I told him it didn’t matter. If he’d turned up two hours earlier, I’d have just driven straight home. We wouldn’t have come over here to the pub.’ Fia was still flushed from her exertions. ‘And I’d never have met all these fantastic people!’

No prizes for guessing which fantastic person in particular she was so delighted to have met. Honestly, weren’t people whose marriages had just broken down meant to be miserable for the first six months at least? Fia appeared to be having trouble stringing it out for six
hours
. And as for those two innocent children… shouldn’t she be at home comforting them, gently preparing them for the imminent upheaval in their young lives?

‘Another drink?’ said Johnny.

‘Ooh, let me buy this round!’

‘Absolutely not.’ He reached for Fia’s empty glass. ‘I’m getting them. Cleo, what’ll you have?’

‘Actually, it’s half past eight already.’ Cleo looked at her watch, surely it was time for Will’s wife to leave now. ‘Shouldn’t you be going home?’

Fia looked appalled. ‘Home? You mean, where Will is? I don’t think so.’ Pulling out her phone, she glanced at the screen and said with satisfaction, ‘Seven messages from him so far. Ha, good. Let him wonder where I am for a change.’

Was she for real? ‘But what about the children?’

Puzzled, Fia said, ‘What about them?’

OK, she was now officially heartless.

Cleo said pointedly, ‘Won’t they be expecting you home?’

‘Oh lovely, thanks so much!’ Fia smiled up at Johnny and took the brimming glass from him before turning her attention back to Cleo. ‘No. Because they’re not there.’

‘But you still have to drive back at some stage. Is that a soft drink?’ Cleo indicated the glass of what looked like Coke.

‘Most of it is, yes.’ Still beaming, Fia said, ‘And the rest’s Bacardi.’

‘So who’s looking after the children?’ Cleo couldn’t help herself; she had to know.

Fia gave her an odd look. ‘Well, their mother of course. Will only sees them every other weekend.’

Clannnggg
, the penny finally dropped.

‘You mean… they’re not yours?’

‘God, no! Did you seriously think they were?’ Shaking her head vigorously, Fia burst out laughing. ‘No, no, no, the kids are from his first marriage. I mean, they’re really sweet and I’ve always got on well with them, but they’re definitely not mine. They live with their mum and her second husband in Birmingham. I only met Will three years ago and he was already divorced by then.’

Good grief, this country was littered with Will’s wives. Up on the stage, one of the painters was belting out ‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?’ Every time he sang the question, his work colleagues yelled back, ‘Nooooo!’

‘Sorry. I thought they were yours,’ said Cleo.

‘I wondered why I was getting interrogated. So anyway, that’s that sorted out.’ Waving her hand in a forgiving manner, Fia said, ‘But you’re right about me not being able to drive home. Look, seeing as it’s kind of your fault I’m here, I couldn’t crash at yours tonight, could I?’

Yet another favor? Honestly, hadn’t she already done enough? Cleo hesitated. While she was prevaricating, Johnny passed her a glass of white wine.

‘Please? I wouldn’t be any trouble,’ Fia wheedled. ‘I promise.’

‘Um, the thing is, the spare bed isn’t made up… and I have to be at work
really
early tomorrow morning…’

‘DO YA THINK I’M SEXY?’

‘NOOOOOO!!!’

‘Don’t worry about making up a bed, I can just sleep on the sofa.’

‘Er…’

‘Tell you what,’ said Johnny. ‘You can stay at my place.’

Cleo saw the way Fia’s eyes lit up and something in the pit of her stomach tightened. No, no, this wasn’t the answer.

‘Really? Gosh,
thanks
!’

Hastily backtracking, Cleo said, ‘Look, it’s fine, we can make up the bed. Of course you can stay with me.’

‘But you have to be up
really early
.’ Evidently overjoyed by Johnny’s Far Better Offer, Fia did a poor job of pretending to be grateful to Cleo. ‘And you’ve helped me so much already.’

‘But you can’t stay at Johnny’s house…’ It wasn’t Fia’s fault; she didn’t know what he was like. Cleo did her best to discreetly signal with her eyes that she could well be risking life and limb.

‘Hey, it’s OK. I’m not a serial killer.’ Intercepting the look, Johnny said with amusement, ‘She’ll be safe, I promise.’

‘That’s really kind. And you won’t even know I’m there,’ Fia promised him. ‘Just leave me with a blanket and I’ll sleep on the sofa.’

‘No need for that. There are plenty of spare bedrooms.’

‘Plenty?’ Fia giggled. ‘What do you live in, some kind of
mansion
?’

Frank the landlord, handing Johnny his change, said, ‘Biggest house in the village, love. Gives Buckingham Palace a run for its money.’

Fia did an astonished double-take. She turned to Johnny, still wearing his paint-splashed sweatshirt and torn jeans. ‘Is he serious? But… sorry, and you’re a painter and decorator?’

Cleo raised her eyebrows and took a big glug of wine.

‘It was my father’s home. He died before Christmas and now I’ve moved back in. We did try to sell it,’ Johnny said innocently. ‘But no luck.’

‘Um, yes.’ Nodding, Fia continued to look dumbfounded.

Johnny indicated the team clustered around the stage, still heckling their unsexy coworker. ‘So that’s why we’ve been working on the house. But I’m not a decorator by profession.’

Her forehead creasing, Fia said, ‘But I asked Ash. He
said
you were a painter.’

‘I do paint.’ Johnny nodded in agreement. ‘But canvasses, as a rule. Not walls.’

‘You mean you’re an artist? Oh wow, that’s amazing!’ She was now gazing at him as if he’d sprouted celestial wings. ‘What kind of work do you do?’

‘Well, all sorts.’ Looking suitably modest, Johnny said, ‘But my main thing these days is wire sculpture.’

‘You mean… like making figures out of wire? Oh my God,’ breathed Fia, recognition slowly dawning. ‘Don’t tell me you’re the one who does those huge great ones… you’re not Johnny LaVenture…?’

Cleo couldn’t believe Fia even knew his work, let alone his name. It wasn’t as if he was as famous as Damien Hirst or Banksy.

‘I’m impressed.’ Johnny smiled slightly. ‘And flattered.’

‘Are you kidding? I love your sculptures!’ exclaimed Fia. ‘They’re
brilliant
.’

Cleo’s jaw ached from smiling. This was Will’s
wife
. She didn’t want her staying here in Channings Hill any longer than necessary.

‘Well, this is a treat. Compliments are usually pretty thin on the ground around here.’ Evidently enjoying himself, Johnny said, ‘I’m glad you turned up.’

‘Me too.’ Her eyes shining, Fia visibly came to a decision and scrabbled in her bag for her phone. ‘Right, well if you’re sure I can stay…’

Rod Stewart had been replaced by Amy Winehouse; Deborah had come out from behind the bar and was performing ‘Rehab,’ with three of the decorators singing and dancing in unison behind her.

‘Hi, yes, I’m fine. Sorry? Oh, because I didn’t want to. Anyway, this is just to let you know I won’t be home tonight.’ Moving the phone away from her ear, Fia said, ‘No need to shout. I’ve met an extremely good-looking man and he’s invited me to spend the night with him.’ She smiled up at Johnny, enjoying being in control for possibly the first time. ‘Well, I can do whatever I like. Same as you always have. No, it doesn’t matter where I am, and it’s not actually any of your business anyway.’

Cleo watched her. Fia’s eyes were bright, her mind made up. She was tipsy but not that drunk, galvanized by adrenaline rather than alcohol. Would she wake up tomorrow morning and regret it?

Having listened to Will at the other end of the line, Fia replied, ‘Because you’ve been shagging another girl behind my back, and that means our marriage is over, that’s why. Yes, you have. No, she didn’t tell me.’ Catching Cleo’s eye, she winked. ‘If you must know, you’ve had a private detective following you for the last three months. Oh yes, cost a fortune but he was worth every penny. Anyway, I have to go now. Sleep well.’ Cheerily, Fia concluded, ‘I’ll be home some time tomorrow, we can talk about solicitors and stuff then. Byeeee!’

She switched off the phone with a flourish, dropped it into her bag, and exhaled.

Johnny surveyed her. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I think so.’ Fia pulled a shaky-scared face. ‘Phew, who knew so much could happen in one day?’

Cleo glanced over at Johnny.
Not to mention one night
.

‘I haven’t had anything to eat.’ Fia sounded surprised. ‘Not since those currant buns ages ago. Do they serve food in this place?’

‘No.’ Cleo shook her head.

‘Oh. Damn, I’m starving.’ Pleased, Fia said, ‘And my marriage just broke up. That has to be a good sign, doesn’t it?’

‘They sell crisps,’ said Cleo. ‘And nuts.’ She was hungry too. At home in the fridge was a sausage casserole ready-meal for one; not easily split between two famished people, but if she didn’t offer…

‘OK,’ Johnny raised a hand as Cleo opened her mouth to speak. ‘How about we have one more drink here, then head back to my place? I can do you steak and chips or a mushroom risotto, or there are pizzas in the freezer.’ As an afterthought he added, ‘And there’s blackberry crumble too.’

Honestly, who did he think he was? Jean-Christophe Novelli?

‘Wow!’ Clearly thinking the same thing and wildly impressed, Fia exclaimed, ‘Not only a world-famous artist, but you can cook as well.’

‘Well, not quite.’ Johnny shrugged. ‘Chips and risotto out of the freezer. But I can chargrill a mean fillet steak.’

Fia looked as if she’d been shown a stupendous magic trick. ‘That’s good enough for me!’

Ten minutes later, up on the stage, a couple of new arrivals were being Elton and Kiki, making a surprisingly good job of ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.’ Taking advantage of Johnny’s visit to the loo, Cleo managed to take Fia to one side.

‘Listen, you don’t know Johnny. I really don’t think you should go home with him. You can stay at my house; it’s no trouble. We’ll have sausage casserole!’ Sausage being the operative word, seeing as there was only one of them; she’d have to cut it in half, add a can of tomatoes, and maybe tip in some baked beans to make the casserole stretch to serve two. Cleo gave her a winning smile. ‘Honestly, it’d be better.’

She could see the thought processes going on in Fia’s head. Hmm, fillet steak and chips versus sausage casserole. Tiny cottage versus stonking great mansion. Husband’s somewhat grumpy ex-girlfriend versus flirtatious, seriously attractive sculptor…

So all in all, it would be better in what way,
exactly
?

Fia searched for the right words. Finally she came out with, ‘Thanks, but I’ve already said I’d stay at his place. It’d be rude to back out now.’

Surprise surprise.

On the bright side, she’d have a whole sausage to herself. Cleo nodded. ‘OK, but can I just say? Johnny has a bit of a reputation, so don’t do anything you might regret.’

Fia considered this for a bit. Then she replied, ‘You know, I never thought I’d be getting moral advice from my husband’s mistress.’

That was below the belt. ‘I wasn’t a mistress! I didn’t even know he was married!’

‘Well exactly. So you’re hardly an expert, are you? Sorry, not being rude, but you’ve kind of buggered up my life already.’ Fia made placatory, don’t-be-offended gestures as she spoke. ‘So why can’t I just go with the flow now? Because who’s to say what’ll happen? This could be fate, couldn’t it? I’ve come here today for the first time in my life. I came to see you, and I’ve ended up meeting Johnny. And he’s been incredibly kind and he seems
really
nice…’

Cleo wondered how to respond. Should she explain that the whole point of men like Johnny LaVenture was to make you
think
they were really nice?

‘In fact what I’m starting to wonder,’ Fia waggled a mischievous index finger at her, ‘is if you might not be a little bit envious because you’re secretly quite keen on him yourself.’

Euw, what a thought.
‘Johnny and I grew up in this village. We went to school together. I’m kind of the opposite of keen,’ said Cleo.

***

Cleo was in Cardiff by six-thirty the next morning. She picked up a middle-aged actress who snored all the way to Chichester and dribbled all over her emerald green Hermes scarf. On TV she was the epitome of glamour.

Back home by two in the afternoon, Cleo saw that Fia’s car had gone. At last. The snow had almost disappeared as well. Later she would pay a visit to the supermarket and stock up on food—last night’s sausage casserole dilemma had shamed her—but first she wanted a long hot soak in the bath.

Which was interrupted twenty minutes later—nooooo!—by the doorbell.

But ignoring someone at the door was as impossible as not answering a ringing phone, so Cleo hauled herself out of the tub, pulled on her white fleecy dressing gown, and wrapped a fetching orange towel around her head.

This had better be worth it. Ewan McGregor at the very least, Hugh Jackman at a push. Anyone else would be a crushing disappointment.

Her heart sank when it wasn’t either of them.

And frankly, having this one back on her doorstep wasn’t much of a consolation prize.

‘Hi!’ Fia was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, together with fresh makeup and a beaming smile.

‘Hello.’ Cleo clutched her dressing gown tightly around herself, shivering as a blast of icy air attacked her wet legs.

‘Oh sorry, I saw your car was back! Were you in the bath?’

No, just frolicking naked in the kitchen sink.

‘It’s fine. Um… come in.’ Was Will’s wife looking so ecstatic because she’d spent the night in Johnny’s bed?

‘Actually, I need to get home. Start sorting everything out with Will. I just popped over to say thanks. For yesterday… trying to help me with my car…’ Fia shrugged and said, ‘Not to mention having an affair with my husband.’

‘I told you, I didn’t
know
—
’

‘It’s OK, I believe you! And I’m really glad you did!’ Fia nodded vigorously. ‘It’s the best thing that could have happened. I can’t tell you what a weight it is off my mind. I feel… free at last!’

‘Right. Well, good.’ What had gone on last night? Cleo knew she mustn’t ask, but thought she could probably guess.

‘So that’s it, I just wanted to say thanks to you and your friend… thingie…’ A vague gesture in the direction of the cottage next door.

‘Ash.’

‘That’s right.’

‘He’s in there,’ said Cleo, ‘if you want to tell him yourself.’

‘Oh no, it’s fine.’ Fia pulled a conspiratorial face. ‘He’s a bit… strange, isn’t he?’

‘No. Not strange at all.’

‘Not like that! I just meant he’s very quiet.’

‘He isn’t usually. He’s a DJ.’ Cleo felt she needed to defend him.

‘A what?’ Laughing, Fia said, ‘You mean, he does the disco in the village hall, that kind of thing?’

‘He has his own radio show.’

‘Wow, that’s… excellent!’ From the look on her face Cleo could tell Fia thought she meant a thirty-minute slot on hospital radio, once a fortnight. Opening her mouth to explain, she was beaten to it. ‘Anyway, I’d better shoot off before you get frostbite.’ Backing down the path, Fia waved and said gaily, ‘Back to Bristol to get everything sorted!’

‘It’s really over with Will?’

‘Too right it is! He’s all yours if you want him. You’re more than welcome!’

‘No thanks. Hang on though.’ Cleo was baffled. ‘Yesterday you were ready to drive off without even speaking to me. You didn’t even know for sure I’d
had
an affair with Will. And now all of a sudden you can’t wait to dump him.’

‘I know! Isn’t it brilliant? But it’s the right decision.’ Fia pressed the flat of her hand to her sternum. ‘Like Johnny said when we were in the pub yesterday, we only get one life. So why waste it?’

‘Right, but—’

‘He says Will doesn’t deserve me and I owe it to myself to find someone else who does.’

‘Well yes, but when—’

‘And he’s so right!’ Shaking her head as she reached the gate, Fia glowed with self-confidence. ‘I just needed to hear someone else say it. I
do
deserve better.’ And she raised her hand in a final wave. ‘So, wish me luck! Bye!’

Cleo watched as the blue Fiesta disappeared from view. Will’s wife had definitely had sex with Johnny LaVenture last night.

Well, good luck with waiting for him to call.