Take a Chance on Me (23 page)

Abbie was helping a dithery woman choose from the various types of solar-powered garden lighting on display when she heard Magda say playfully, ‘Oh my, who’s that handsome hunk coming in now?’

It was Tom. Even after all these years, the unexpected sight of him made Abbie’s heart soar. Breaking into a smile, she lifted her arm to wave before realizing he wasn’t looking in her direction. Instead his attention appeared to be focused elsewhere…

Oh good grief…

Approaching Des in the middle of the shop, not slowing for a second, Tom drew back his arm and unleashed a mighty punch that would have done Ricky Hatton proud. Des went down like a sack of gravel. Screams rang out from women in the vicinity; nothing like this had ever happened before in Kilgour’s Garden Centre.

Tom didn’t utter a word. Without so much as a glance around the shop, he turned and left. Everyone was in a state of shock, eyes like saucers and mouths agape. People gasped as Des hauled himself into a sitting position and blood dripped from his nose onto the tiled floor.

Then slowly, one by one, faces began to turn in Abbie’s direction. Fear squeezed her stomach and bile rose in her throat as she saw their expressions alter, slide from astonishment and confusion to suspicion and then realization that, logically, the chances were that this had to be something to do with her.

The stunned silence gave way to kerfuffle, a rising babble of voices. Assorted bystanders helped Des to his feet and tissues were produced to staunch the bleeding and mop the mess from the floor.

‘Has anyone called the police yet?’ This came from dithery solar-powered woman in a high-pitched, panicky voice. ‘We have to call the police!’

Fresh blood spattered over Des’s grey checked shirt as he shook his head. ‘No, no, don’t do that.’

Abbie felt more people turning to look at her with varying degrees of accusation and disbelief. Des’s reaction confirmed that they’d previously only suspected.

Magda said, ‘Abbie? What’s this about? What’s been going on?’

‘I… I don’t know.’ Her cheeks were so hot they felt as if they might burst into flames.

Huw’s overgrown eyebrows were bristling as he helped Des to his feet. ‘D’you need an ambulance, lad?’

‘No, really, there’s no need.’

Abbie tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. Her hands were shaking. She needed to talk to Tom, needed to explain.

‘Come on lad, let’s get you cleaned up.’ Huw had taken charge now, leading Des towards the stairs.

‘Um… I’ll go and see Tom.’ Was that her own voice, calling across the shop after them? It didn’t sound like her at all.

Des turned and nodded. Like an automaton, Abbie headed for the door. Somehow she had to sort this out, explain that she hadn’t—

‘It’s OK, you don’t have to.’

‘What are you going to do, walk home? Come on, I’ll give you a lift.’

Back in Channings Hill, Tom’s dusty silver-grey van was parked outside the house.

‘I’ll come in with you.’ Magda was firm.

‘No, please don’t.’ The last thing they needed was an audience.

‘Has he ever hit you before?’

‘No!’

Magda said grimly, ‘There’s a first time for everything. He’s never hit Des before either.’

‘Tom’s not like that.’ As she stumbled out of the car, Abbie belatedly realized that if she’d been innocent she would have said, ‘Why would Tom hit me? I haven’t done anything wrong.’

Too late now. Taking a deep breath, she opened the front door.

Ironing, ironing everywhere. The living room was awash with it; there was even an ivory lace wedding dress in the window, hanging from the curtain rail. No Georgia, thank God. Just Tom standing with his back to her, his arms tightly folded and his whole body radiating with fury.

This was what she’d been dreading for months. Now it had happened. And it was fairly obvious how he’d found out.

‘How could you?’ Tom’s voice vibrated with emotion. Slowly he turned to face her. ‘How
could
you?’

Abbie saw red. Without warning, fear turned to defiance. ‘How could I? Look what you’ve just done!’ The words came spilling out, a desperate form of retaliation. ‘If you wanted to talk about it, you could have just asked me and I’d have told you everything. It would have been just between us.’ Her nails dug into her palms and she felt sick, because from now on her life would be different. ‘But oh no, you had to come into work and cause a scene, and now everybody knows!’

‘I DON’T CARE.’ Tom, who never raised his voice, roared, ‘I WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW! YOU AND DES KILGOUR… YOU AND HIM TOGETHER…’

‘I haven’t had sex with him.’ Abbie blurted the words out, terrified by his fury. ‘It was just one night, I thought you’d had an affair and I was upset—’

The front door swung open and Georgia called out, ‘Why’s there a woman trying to hide in the bushes under our front window?’ Then she appeared in the living room doorway and her expression altered as she took in the scene. Her gaze flickered between them and Abbie knew then who had told Tom.

‘Thanks.’ Abbie shook her head at Georgia.

Georgia said indignantly, ‘What? It wasn’t me. I didn’t tell him.’

Tom looked at his daughter in disbelief. ‘Hang on. You mean you knew about it? You
knew
about Des Kilgour?’

‘He turned up here once, and they didn’t know I was in the house. I heard everything. Abbie made me promise not to tell you. Oh Dad, I’m sorry…’

Could Georgia make it sound any worse? And she was lying; she had to be behind this. Abbie demanded, ‘So who was it, then? If it wasn’t you?’

Georgia stood her ground. ‘How should I know? Maybe it was the woman hiding in the bushes.’ Striding over to the window and flinging it open, she said bluntly, ‘Well? Was it you?’

Eavesdropping on other people’s conversations had long been Magda’s forte. Rising slowly to her feet, she brushed leaves from her hair. ‘Of course it wasn’t me. None of us knew anything about it before today.’

‘That’s because there isn’t anything to know about,’ said Abbie.

Tom was curt. ‘Magda, get out of here.’

‘Just don’t hit her,’ was Magda’s warning shot as she turned to leave.

When she’d driven away and Georgia had closed the window, Abbie looked at Tom and said again, ‘So who told you?’

Tom took a folded sheet of paper out of his jeans pocket. ‘This was left on my windscreen.’

Her legs still trembling, she crossed the room and took it from him. In capital letters, the anonymous note said:

FROM A FRIEND WHO THINKS YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT YOUR WIFE IS HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH DES KILGOUR.

P.S. THIS ISN’T A RUMOR. IT’S FACT.

‘Except it isn’t true.’ Abbie swallowed hard; how many more times did she have to say it? ‘Nothing happened, I
swear
.’

‘You spent the night with him,’ Georgia butted in. ‘In his bed. You can’t say
nothing
happened.’

Had she written the note? So that Tom would find out, but she could insist she hadn’t been the one to tell him?

‘There was no sex.’

‘But you kissed him.’

‘Look, I’d like to talk to Tom about this. Could we have some privacy, d’you think?’

Any normal person would instantly leave. But Georgia, who wasn’t any normal person, shook her head. ‘No, I’m staying. Look what you’ve done to my dad.’

Tom was barely recognizable, his face gaunt and his eyes dead. Of course Georgia was siding with him, protecting him.

‘Let me explain everything,’ Abbie pleaded, but he held up his hands.

‘You’ve lied to me. You’ve been keeping secrets, doing God knows what, so why would I believe anything you say now?’

This wasn’t an argument; this was her whole world slipping away. Abbie blurted out, ‘It was when you were off on that fishing trip and I found the letter from… her.’ She indicated Georgia, who reacted as if she’d been slapped.

‘So it’s all my fault, is it? Oh no, you’re not going to pin the blame on me, just because you’ve been caught out!’

‘Look, I’m just trying to tell you what happened.’ Abbie’s voice rose. Georgia’s interference was the last thing she needed.

‘Well don’t.’ Tom surveyed her with disgust before turning away. ‘Don’t bother. Because I don’t want to hear.’

***

‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’

‘Of course I don’t!’

‘You’re really sure?’

‘Really.’ How could she mind her sister moving in with her? Cleo carried a cup of tea over to Abbie, who was in a terrible state. Apart from anything else, it had been a
fait accompli
; by the time she’d arrived home from work this evening, Abbie had already let herself into the cottage and taken over the spare bedroom. Because staying in her own house was no longer an option.

When she’d heard the reason why, Cleo had been stunned. It was surreal, on a par with Abbie announcing that she was becoming an astronaut and going off to train with NASA.

But it was true. Beyond belief though it seemed, her sister had managed to get herself entangled, however briefly, with Des Kilgour. Who was now, somewhat inconveniently, in love with her.

And possibly also suffering from a broken nose.

It just went to show.

‘I couldn’t stay there. I
couldn’t
.’ Distraught and repeating herself, Abbie rattled on. ‘Not with the two of them ganging up on me. Oh yes, this is Georgia’s dream come true. She’s got her wish. From now, it’ll just be her and her dad together, and no more moaning misery-woman to rain on her parade. You know, she definitely put that note on Tom’s windscreen. I tried so hard to be nice to her and this is the thanks I get. And to think I
trusted
her...’

It was eleven-thirty. Cleo was shattered after a long day. ‘But what if it wasn’t her?’

‘Who else could it be? Des hasn’t told another living soul. And neither did I. Because I knew it was the only way to be safe.’

‘Maybe somebody saw you.’

‘But that’s just it, they
didn’t
. They couldn’t have, because there hasn’t been anything to see!’

There was no answer to that. Cleo said, ‘Well, I can’t guess how it happened, then. But I’m sure Tom’ll come round. You know how much he loves you.’

‘I didn’t tell him about Des because I didn’t want to hurt him. And now I’ve made things a million times worse.’ Tears were leaking out of Abbie’s eyes, dripping down onto her forearm. ‘He doesn’t believe me anymore. The trust has gone. And you know how proud Tom is. God,
sorry
…’

‘Doesn’t matter. Let me do it.’ Bending to retrieve the smashed sections of her favorite teacup, Cleo managed to kneel in a puddle of tea and simultaneously slice her finger on a shard of china. Blood oozed out and dripped onto the floor.

‘Sorry, I’ll help you clear up…’

‘No, really, it’s fine.’

‘I just can’t believe it’s happened.’

‘Abbie, it’s only a cup.’

‘I didn’t mean that. I’m talking about my life. My stupid hopeless l-life…’

Eleven-thirty-five. Cleo grabbed a handful of tissues from the box Abbie was working her way through, and began to mop up the mess. It was going to be a long, long night.

It was the final performance of
Beach Party!
at the Hippodrome and the Casey Kruger fan club had turned out this evening in force. There were probably fifty-odd in total, and some of them were, without question, odd. Polyester abounded. And overweight bodies crammed into slightly-too-small I Love Casey! T-shirts. There were even a few men.

At least it wasn’t raining. They had a nice night for it. Which was just as well really, seeing as the show had ended fifty minutes ago and they were still waiting with their cameras and autograph books for their hero to emerge from the theatre. But no one seemed to mind. Apparently, he’d been fantastic tonight. It had been a performance to remember.

Cleo was having to wait too, but at least she was getting paid for it. And when she’d dropped him at the stage door earlier he had warned her that he’d more than likely be late out tonight.

‘Bloody better be anyway,’ he’d added. ‘There’ll be big trouble if the management don’t crack open a few bottles of bubbly.’

Settling back in the driver’s seat, Cleo turned her attention away from the excited fans and picked up her phone. She’d already called Abbie to let her know she wouldn’t be back before midnight. Earlier, too, she’d spoken to Tom and discovered him in no mood to forgive his wife for almost-but-not-quite sleeping with another man. Nor had he taken kindly to being lectured (his choice of words) on the subject of love and trust, by someone who’d never even
had
a proper relationship in her life.

Which had hurt, but Cleo had for once stoically refrained from retaliating. Apart from anything else, he had a point. And he was currently very hurt, feeling cruelly betrayed and let down. Because the greater the love, the more devastating the sense of betrayal. Which was why she hadn’t been nearly as emotionally shattered when she’d discovered Will’s deception.

Well, she’d leave Tom alone for the moment. But still she fidgeted restlessly with her phone; yesterday’s bombshell regarding Abbie and Tom had affected her in more ways than one. Because theirs had always been the ultimate perfect relationship, the one against which all others were held up, measured, and invariably found wanting.

Call it warped female logic, but if things could fall apart for Abbie and Tom, what hope was there for the rest of them?

Which in turn meant that all the effort she’d made over the last few years to protect herself from being hurt might not have been the smart move she’d thought.

Basically, if you were going to end up sooner or later getting your heart broken anyway, why not stop agitating about it and just let yourself go with the flow? If this was the case, at least have your bit of fun with the most gorgeous man you could think of.

Ooh now, hmm, let’s see, and who might that be? Cleo smiled inwardly, mocking the fact that she was a girl with a guilty secret. Because like it or not, Johnny LaVenture appeared to have taken up more or less permanent residence inside her head.

But it wouldn’t be out of order, would it, to give Johnny a quick call, just to find out how things were going with his aunt? That would be all right, surely. If he was going through a difficult time, wouldn’t he be glad to hear a friendly voice?

The stage door burst open at last and Casey emerged to a rousing cheer from his fans. They clustered around him as if he were a conquering hero. And he was waving a bottle of champagne in each hand, which was only increasing their excitement. By the look of him, it wasn’t the first champagne he’d encountered tonight.

Cleo gazed down at the electric-blue screen of her mobile, still trying to decide whether to phone Johnny.

‘Wa-heyyyy!’ A cork flew into the air and another ecstatic cheer went up. If the fans thought they might be sharing the champagne, their hopes were soon dashed. Casey tipped his head back and glugged it down as if he’d spent the last month in a desert. One of the women screamed delightedly, ‘Ooh, he’s spilling it down his front. Casey, let me lick it off your chest!’

Since she was in her sixties and barrel-shaped, it wasn’t tremendously likely to happen. Cleo scrolled through the numbers stored in her phone and felt her breath catch in her throat as Johnny’s name came up. Which was kind of a giveaway. OK, all she was doing was calling
as a friend
to see how things were going in Norfolk.

Or maybe not. His phone was switched off, which probably meant he was at the hospital. Debating whether or not to leave a message, she was distracted by another chorus of squeals as Casey ripped open his red silk shirt and thrust his bare chest at the sixty-something woman. Oh God, that was so gross. Cleo ended the call; she’d try again tomorrow. Buzzing down the window, she watched as the woman enthusiastically snaked her tongue across Casey’s hairless, fake-tanned chest… surely this had to contravene some obscenity law or other. Eugh, please don’t let him invite her to come back with him to the hotel…

Ten minutes later Casey reeled over to the car. Shaking his head to stop Cleo opening the rear door for him, he threw himself into the front passenger seat instead.

‘I can’t talk to you properly from back there. C’mon, let’s go, my work here is done. Put your foot down before that fat old bird throws herself onto the bonnet.’ He took a messy swig from the second bottle of Moet. ‘Jesus, what an octopus, she kept trying to unzip my jeans.’

‘I noticed. I thought maybe after the fourth or fifth time you might have asked her to stop.’

Casey gave her a nudge. ‘Hey, s’just a bit of fun. I’ve brightened their day. S’what it’s all about, yeah?’ He glugged back more champagne as she put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. ‘You know what? I’m gonna miss this place. Gonna miss you too.’

‘Thank you. That’s nice.’ Cleo turned her attention to navigating the busy multi-laned downtown streets. Moments later, she saw that Casey’s eyes had closed and his mouth fallen open. Hooray, just pray he didn’t snore like a warthog all the way back to the hotel.

Before long they’d left Bristol behind them. Cleo drove while Casey slept, his head lolling sideways onto his shoulder, the half-empty bottle cradled like a baby in his arms. She was three miles from the hotel when he woke up with a whole-body jolt and said, ‘How ‘bout you, then?’

‘How about me what?’

‘Gonna miss me, babe?’

Oh please. Aloud she said politely, ‘Of course I will.’

‘Ha, knew it!’ He slapped his leg. ‘Changed your mind about me now, haven’t you? Don’t want to miss your chance with Casey Kruger. Stop the car, babe.’

‘Listen, we’ll be at the hotel in five minutes—’

‘No no no no
no
! C’mon babe, pull over, just do it for me, eh?’

He was absolutely plastered. Cleo had no intention of slowing down. ‘Let’s just keep going, shall we, then—’

‘Babe, for crying out loud, stop the fucking car NOW!’ As he said it, Casey launched himself without warning across the car and grabbed the steering wheel, wrenching it from her hands. The car swerved wildly to the left as the narrow country lane bent to the right. In slow motion, with Casey’s belated yell of ‘Oh fuck a duck’ ringing in her ears, Cleo jammed on the brakes too late to prevent the car crashing through a fence and assuming a sideways momentum of its own as it hurtled down a steep slope on the other side.

It was like being trapped against your better judgment on the world’s scariest roller coaster. Flung left then right then upside-down, Cleo gave herself up to the rolling. Was this it, was this how she was going to die? Would everyone blame her for the accident? Would Casey Kruger fans disrupt her funeral and call her names? Oh no, poor Abbie, as if she didn’t already have enough on her plate. And what about Ash? Would he be distraught with grief? Damn, and did this mean she’d never find out what Johnny was like in bed? That was so unfair, why hadn’t she just… oh, hang on, stopping now…

Stopping…

Stopped now.

Slowly, Cleo opened her eyes. Was she still alive or did she just think she was, like Patrick Swayze’s character in
Ghost
?

‘Oooooh fuuuuck,’ groaned a voice next to her.

OK, if they were both dead, this could mean she was shackled to Casey Kruger for all eternity. That would definitely be too much to bear, stuck with the world’s most irritating ghostly sidekick.

No, they were still alive. Cleo croaked, ‘Are you all right?’

‘Fucking stupid question. What did you do?’

Hello? What had
she
done? ‘You grabbed the steering wheel,’ Cleo reminded him.

‘What? No I didn’t!’ Casey was outraged. ‘It was you.’

OK, now wasn’t the time to get into a fight. They were trapped in complete darkness, hanging upside-down in a smashed-up car on a steeply sloping wooded escarpment. Cleo felt blood trickling down her face. There was shattered windscreen glass all over her. Her neck hurt. So did her legs. Her left hip
really
hurt. Oh God, this was serious. The driver’s side of the car was buckled in. Who was to say the petrol tank wouldn’t ignite? Fumbling for the door handle with her right hand, she attempted without success to open the door.

‘Look,’ Casey complained, ‘not being funny, but can we stop mucking about now? Just get me back to the hotel, yeah?’

‘We need an ambulance.’ Cleo tried to work out where her phone was.

‘Fine then, tell ’ em to hurry up. I need to get back before they close the bar… wha’s happened to this bottle anyway? S’empty.’

Fingers trembling with the effort, Cleo managed to reach her mobile. It almost slipped from her grasp and the back of her neck prickled with panic because if she’d dropped it, they’d really be stuck. Right, got it, all she had to do now was press nine nine nine and—

‘Cleo? Hey, how are you!’

What
?

Confused and in a state of shock, Cleo wondered how she could possibly be hearing Johnny’s voice. Was he working on the switchboard for the emergency services? Hang on, no, she hadn’t called them yet. Belatedly she realized she must have pressed last number redial when she was making a grab for the phone.

‘Cleo? Are you there?’

Tears welled up in her eyes because he sounded so close, when in reality he was two hundred miles away. ‘Yes, I’m here… Johnny, we’ve had an accident… we’re trapped in the car and my neck hurts… I need to call an ambulance but the battery’s almost gone on my phone…’

He didn’t hesitate or waste a moment. ‘I’ll call them. Where are you?’

‘Pennywell Lane, we came off at the bend opposite Parson’s Barn… Casey’s with me… I’m frightened to move and we’re stuck here…’

‘Tell ’ em to bloody hurry up,’ Casey bellowed. ‘I don’t want to miss last orders.’

‘Right, I’m calling 999. Hang up now,’ Johnny ordered. ‘And don’t panic, OK? Everything’s going to be fine.’

He’d gone. Cleo closed her eyes. All they could do now was wait. Next to her, Casey mumbled, ‘God dammit, I’ve wet myself.’

‘Never mind.’

In the darkness, she heard him shift in his seat. ‘S’all
cold
…’

‘Did you spill champagne on your trousers?’

More shifting around, followed by the sound—
euw
—of Casey smacking his lips. Relieved, he said, ‘Yeah, it’s the Moet.’

A fresh trickle of blood slid across Cleo’s forehead into her ear. It felt horrible but she couldn’t turn her neck to stop it happening. There was glass in her hair too. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted. She started to shiver as shock set in. How long would it be before the ambulance turned up?

Not long at all, thank God. Within minutes, they heard a vehicle racing along the lane, coming closer and closer. No sirens though. Maybe when there was no other traffic on the road they didn’t bother with them. Cleo listened to the ambulance pull up, followed by the sound of a door slamming and footsteps racing towards the car.

Then she opened her eyes again, and there was Johnny, which was so clearly impossible that she had to be hallucinating.

‘About time too,’ slurred Casey. ‘Get us out of here, mate. Got any whiskey on you?’

‘Johnny?’ His name came out as a croak. ‘Is it you?’

‘You’re OK. Don’t try to move.’ He managed, finally, to wrench open the buckled driver’s door. Crouching beside Cleo, he stroked her hair out of her eyes. ‘Can you feel your legs?’

She managed with some difficulty to wiggle each foot in turn. ‘Yes. How can you be here?’

‘I got back to Channings Hill earlier this evening.’

‘Your aunt?’

‘Barbara died last night,’ said Johnny.

‘Oh no. I’m sorry.’ Cleo tried to shake her head and winced with pain.

‘Keep still. The ambulance’ll be here any minute. I can’t believe I beat them to it.’ Johnny was stroking her hand. ‘Then again, I was only three miles away. And I drove like a maniac.’

His presence was such a comfort. ‘I’m glad you came.’ A tear leaked from Cleo’s right eye and she felt him wipe it away. ‘How’s your other aunt?’

‘Clarice? Not too bad, considering. She’s back at the nursing home now.’

‘Got a can of lager, mate? Not being funny,’ Casey complained, ‘but all this waiting around’s starting to get on my tits.’

Johnny gave Cleo’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. In the distance they heard the wail of a siren—so it was being used after all. He stayed with her, gently picking bits of shattered windscreen glass out of her hair, until help arrived in the form of two police officers and two ambulance crew.

While they checked her over, the paramedics asked Cleo questions. When they heard where she lived, the older one chuckled and said, ‘Oh yes, I know Channings Hill. Used to have a regular customer there. Jean, her name was. Thirsty girl! Reckon she used to have us on speed dial. Used to get herself in some right old states.’ As he measured Cleo’s blood pressure he added jovially, ‘You must have known her. I’m trying to think of her surname.’

Did the sense of shame ever go away? Cleo looked at him and said, ‘She was my aunt.’

‘Oh, sorry, love.’ During the awkward moment that ensued, Cleo saw him sniffing the air, taking note of the alcohol fumes. Casually he said, ‘Yeah, now you come to mention it, you look like her. So how about you then, love? Had anything to drink this evening?’