United State of Love (23 page)

Tex looked up from the soup he was tasting.

‘A little more salt, Patrick,’ he said to his sous-chef. He turned his attention to the kitchen porter who had just come through the door. ‘So?’ he asked Gareth.

‘She went into the Kings Head and sat down with a drink,’ puffed Gareth, his face red from running back down the road.

Tex nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with his hand. ‘You gotta phone?’ Gareth nodded. ‘Go and get it. Quickly.’

‘Chef.’ Gareth looked bemused, but the eighteen-year-old was in no position to question his boss and scurried off to the staff room to fetch his phone from the locker.

‘Right, this is my number,’ said Tex when Gareth returned. ‘Now, I want you to go back to the pub, buy yourself a drink and just sit in the corner keeping an eye on her for me. If she looks like she is leaving, phone me straight away. Understand? Good.’ Tex pushed a ten pound note into Gareth's hand and whipped off the small black cap perched on the lad's head. ‘Take your apron off, put a jacket on and go back now. Okay?’

‘Yes, Chef.’

‘Everything all right, Chef?’ asked Stefan, coming into the kitchen, an alarmed look on his face.

‘Yes, fine. I think. Gareth is just doing a little job for me. Once service is under way, I have to go out. Patrick will be in charge of the kitchen, and Daniel is on his way in to make up the numbers. So nothing for front of house to worry about.’ Tex smiled, and patting Stefan reassuringly on the back, walked him out to the restaurant area.

As soon as Anna had paused in the kitchen earlier and looked over at him, Tex had instantly regretted giving her such a hard time. The look of sadness in her eyes was haunting him. It truly hurt to see her so obviously upset. He could have made it a lot easier for her by telling her nothing was going on between himself and Christine, but his pride got the better of him and he wanted her to know how it felt to be pushed aside for someone else. Although all the facts pointed to Anna being back with Mark, somehow Tex couldn't quite believe it.

Over the weeks he and Anna had been together, she had opened up a lot about her marriage, and through snippets of information and casual comments, Tex had been able to piece together what he believed was a pretty accurate picture of Anna's relationship with Mark.

Earlier tonight, standing in the office, he had pushed her and pushed her, trying to make her tell him exactly what was going on. He had purposefully let her get the impression that there might be something between himself and Christine in the hope that the jealousy would overwhelm her enough and, in an unguarded moment, she would let slip what hold Mark had over her. Unfortunately, his plan had backfired and just left Anna with a look of desolation. Now he wished he had gone for the softer, gentle and honest approach. That he still only had eyes and heart for Anna. That Christine had muscled in on the photograph without warning, and that he hadn't wanted to make a fuss with the press there. That he was more in love with Anna than he ever was and that everything else paled into insignificance. That she was the love of his life.

Almost before she had even left the restaurant, Tex was calling Gareth over, giving him instructions to follow Anna and report back as to where she went. Much as he wanted to, Tex knew he couldn't abandon the kitchen with service due to start so soon. He would have to hang on until Daniel could get in. Tex checked his watch for a fourth time. Service had started and they were fully booked tonight. He needed to pay attention to the orders that would be coming in any minute now. As usual, he was on the
passe
, making sure all the dishes looked exactly right, the sauce was the right consistency, spread in the correct fashion, all the food was presented correctly, there were no drips on the edge of the plates, that the whole plate of food looked like an exquisite work of art.

The Kings Head was beginning to fill up now as Tex joined Gareth at the bar.

‘She's over there by the fireplace, Chef,’ said Gareth.

Tex followed his gaze. Immediately, there was a tightness in his chest as he saw that Anna wasn't sitting alone as he had imagined, but was with none other than Andy Bartholomew. Jeez, that man had no shame. Tex wondered if he had been too generous when he had persuaded the police not to press charges and just to give Andy a formal warning. He had figured a broken arm and demotion at work to ticket office clerk was punishment enough. He had also made Andy agree to covering the costs of the repairs to the restaurant.

‘How long has he been there?’ Tex's eyes fixed on Anna.

‘About an hour.’

‘Okay. You'd better get back to the restaurant now. Thanks, Gareth.’ Tex forced a smile of appreciation at the lad. He watched Gareth leave the pub, before walking over to Anna's table.

Anna looked up and swaying slightly on her chair, fought for a moment to focus on Tex.

‘Oh look, Andy, it's Tex,’ Anna's words were slightly slurred. ‘Hello, Tex. Shouldn't you be at work or have you come out for a drink with Cruella?’ She wagged a finger at him and went to rest her elbow on the table, but instead it caught the edge and slipped off it. ‘Ooops, who moved the table?’

‘You have had too much to drink,’ said Tex, ignoring the reference to Christine.

‘Well, now you come to mention it,’ began Anna, her head lolling to one side, her eyelids heavy.

Andy looked up at Tex. ‘Me and Anna are enjoying a drink together and you know what they say, three's a crowd.’

Tex returned the glare. ‘Party’s over. I am taking her home.’ He reached over and took the drink from Anna's hand that she was trying to line up, rather unsuccessfully, with her mouth.

‘Oh, you spoilsport,’ Anna giggled as, swaying again, she nearly fell off her chair. Andy, putting his arm around her shoulder, pulled her back in towards him.

‘I don't think she wants to go home with you,’ said Andy.

‘Too bad. You think I am going to leave her with a shit like you?’ Tex's voice was low, each word considered and menacing.

‘Oooh, he's being all masterful and in charge. Aren't you, Chef? You are Masterchef. Ha-ha. Get it? No. Oh dear.’ Anna's words were in danger of rolling into each other as she concentrated on speaking, trying to sound sober, but failing as only someone drunk can. She sat upright for a second before flopping back against Andy, her eyes half closed.

‘Perhaps we should let the lady decide who she wants to be with?’ said Andy confidently. ‘Anna. Anna! Don't go to sleep. Listen. Do you want to stay here with me or go with him? Anna, what do you want to do?’

Anna sat up again, blurry eyed. ‘Well, I am having a nice time here, I must admit … ’

‘There's your answer,’ said Andy smugly.

‘But,’ carried on Anna, elbow on the table, hand raised, forefinger pointed, ‘I think maybe I should go. I don't feel too good.’ She rested her head on her arms over the table.

Tex didn't waste any time, he was immediately at Anna's side, lifting her up under her arm, making her stand. ‘Let's go.’

Anna swayed and leaned into Tex's chest. She put her arms around his neck, locking her fingers together, and looked dreamy-eyed up at him. ‘What have you done with Cruella de Vil? She'll be in a stew. Ha-ha! Get it? In a stew? Stew, you know, all worked up and stew, cooking stew, you being a chef. Get it?’

Tex looked down at her and shook his head. She really had had far too much to drink. Seems he got here just in time.

‘Charming. All that money wasted on wine,’ complained Andy.

Tex looked at him with disdain, fished around in his pocket and then chucked a twenty pound note on the table. ‘That should cover your expenses.’

Holding Anna upright, he managed to get her out of the pub in a dignified manner. Once out in the fresh air, he could feel Anna slumping, so he simply scooped her up in his arms and carried her down the street. She was so light, waiflike, Tex could feel her ribs through her t-shirt. She must have lost weight, there was nothing to her.

Anna put her arms around his neck, a contented smile on her face, eyes closed, head tucked into his shoulder. ‘Richard,’ she murmured.

‘What?’ Tex stopped and looked at her. Who the hell was Richard?

‘Richard,’ repeated Anna not opening her eyes. ‘Richard Gere.
Officer and a Gentleman
. You're my Richard Gere.’

Tex decided it was easier to carry her into his apartment; walking seemed to be a particular problem for Anna. He put her down on the sofa, arranging the cushions round her to try and keep her upright. No sooner had he finished when Anna staggered up.

‘I think I'm going to be sick,’ she announced, stumbling towards the balcony window.

‘Oh no you don't.’ Tex grabbed her arm and whisked her down to the bathroom. He held her shoulders as she knelt down on the floor, head hanging in the toilet bowl. ‘Okay?’ Perhaps she wasn't going to be sick after all. He spoke too soon!

‘I'm sorry,’ whimpered Anna afterwards as she sat on the edge of the bath. Tex wiped her face with a wet flannel. Tears began to fall silently down her face, rinsing her mascara, black trickles streaking her skin.

‘Oh Anna,’ comforted Tex softly as he wiped the tears away. ‘Don't cry.’ He tipped her chin with his hand and looked under her eyelashes, black smudges of make-up gathering underneath.

‘I'm sorry,’ mumbled Anna, sniffing. ‘I've made such a mess of everything.’

‘Shhh. It's all right.’ Tex was crouched down. She swayed slightly one way and then the other. Tex held onto her to steady her. The earlier drunken high of jokes and laughter now replaced by the drunken low of tears and apologies. She really was a sorry sight. Not for the first time was he so glad that he had got to the pub when he did, any later and Andy would probably have whisked her off. He shook his head to rid the thought of what might have happened to her, he actually couldn't bear to imagine it.

Tex rinsed the flannel out and tenderly wiped her forehead, pushing her hair back off her face.

‘Here, have a sip of water.’ He held the glass to her lips as she took a small sip. ‘Now, here's a drop of mouthwash. That's it. Spit it out, don't swallow it.’

He helped Anna back through to the living room and again made her comfortable on the sofa, before making some coffee. By the time he had come back though, Anna was half asleep, slumped over sideways on a cushion. Tex wondered whether he should just put a blanket over her, but decided it would be better to get her undressed and into bed. He lifted her with ease from the sofa and took her into the main bedroom, sitting her on the edge of the bed. He knelt down and slipped her shoes from her feet. Anna leaned forward and rested her hands on his shoulders, her head on his. Tex moved his head up slowly, letting out a deep sigh. He couldn't help it, his mouth found hers, familiar feelings stirring within him instantly. He wondered if she felt the same. She wouldn't know what she felt in her current state. With more reluctance than he thought possible, Tex pulled away.

‘Richard Gere wouldn't have done that,’ Anna grumbled, before falling back onto the bed and passing out.

Tex slipped her jeans off, then noticing that her t-shirt had a suspicious looking stain on it, took that off too. Seeing her in just her underwear, he was even more convinced she had lost weight. She was painfully thin. She obviously hadn't been looking after herself properly these past few weeks.

He lifted her into bed, putting her on her side and pulling the duvet over her bare shoulders. How tempting was it to climb in next to her and hold her, feeling her skin next to his? He had missed her so much and had wanted her back in his bed so often, yet now he had the opportunity, he knew he couldn't. For a start, he didn't know if he would be able to resist her after all this time and secondly, he didn't want her to wake up and assume something had happened. That wouldn't be a good move.

Instead, Tex took the quilt from the spare room and made himself as comfortable as possible on the bedroom chair next to her. He didn't want to leave her in case she was sick again.

When Anna awoke the following morning, she wasn't entirely sure where she was or what had happened. Her head was killing her. She shielded her eyes from the light that was streaming in through the double doors, dappled by the muslin. Funny, it looked like Tex's window in his apartment. She closed her eyes. Then almost instantly her eyes snapped open, her senses bursting into life, suddenly very aware of where she was.

She
was
in Tex's bedroom. His bed, no less. She looked to her left, half expecting to see him next to her, as she so often had. It was empty. She slid her hand across, feeling the smooth, cold sheet, no sign of a crease where a body might have been. No indentation in the pillow either.

Anna took a sip of water from the glass on the bedside table. It was cold and fresh, obviously recently put there. A blister pack of two paracetamols was also there, alongside a little packet of biscuits. The kind you get complimentary with your coffee in a restaurant. The kind that Tex kept in his cupboard.

Gingerly, Anna sat up, swallowed the tablets and nibbled on one of the biscuits. What time was it? She didn’t have her watch on. Had she lost it last night somehow? She tried to recall what had happened last night.

It was starting to come back, and although she had a vague recollection of Tex coming into the pub and, oh no, being sick and Tex wiping her face, she couldn't remember much else of what happened in the apartment. Did he kiss her or was that a dream? Had he undressed her? It didn't appear that he'd slept in the same bed so she assumed that nothing had happened.

Then Anna noticed the duvet and pillow bundled on the chair in the corner of the room. That confirmed her thoughts then. Tex must have slept on the chair. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. Should she feel pleased that he didn't take advantage of her, or should she feel miffed that he had resisted her?

Then again, why would he want her when he had Christine now? Tall, glamorous, sophisticated Cruella. Anna didn't stand a chance. She lay back on the pillow. She could hear the gentle tones of a radio playing. Tex always had music on in the background. He was probably sitting on the other side of the door, reading, creating new menus, working on the laptop or going through his paperwork. Things she had seen him do so many times before. She could picture him in his jeans, crisp white t-shirt, bare feet, hair towel-dried, smiling up at her as she approached him. He would then push the papers aside, or drop them on the floor, reaching out for her, kissing her tummy, pulling her onto his lap for more kissing. Sometimes he would cuddle her for a bit and as she got up, he'd playfully smack her behind before returning to his work. Other times he would simply carry on kissing her, ease her on to the sofa, kissing, touching, loving her.