What goes around comes around (Lily’s Story) (7 page)

“...one more, Annie,” I hear Stuart say.

“Is that her?” I hear Mr Abs say, as all our heads swing in
the direction he’s looking.  Sure enough, there she is, striding across the car
park, untied hair billowing around her face and over her shoulders, looking
more than ever like some catwalk model.  Her long legs are encased in tight
faded blue jeans, that showed every perfect contour, and a fitted leather
jacket finishes the look.  A collective sigh rises from the male members of the
small group as she waves and hurries over.  A quick glance at the Rob Lowe look-alike
tells me he too is enjoying the show; the small smile I saw earlier is playing
again on his lips. 
Stop looking at his lips
, I tell myself crossly,
ignoring the small spike of jealousy I felt when I saw him watching Annie. 
Three different pairs of hands offer to take her bag for her, which she
graciously bestows on Stuart.  Stuart immediately hands it to the driver, who
rolls his eyes and moves to pack it onto the coach.     

“Right, all aboard!” says Stuart with a grin, as he puts one
arm around Annie’s waist and urges her forwards.  The object of my crush has
already retreated back inside the coach.  When I finally mount the steps I find
myself worrying who I’m going to sit beside and not paying attention to where
I’m going. 
Oh my God, this is like school all over again
,
I
realise, hating the insecurity.  I step into the warm coach and scan the available
seats.  A long arm waves at me from about halfway down – Annie.  I focus
on her, ignoring anyone else who might be looking, as well as failing to notice
a bag that has been left sticking out into the aisle.  I trip, of course, and
land nearly on Stuart’s lap.  Of course HE has to be sitting beside Stuart.

“Hello again, Lily,” Stuart sniggers as I struggle back to
my feet, apologising all the while.

“Do you think she’s safe to be on a walking holiday?” I hear
the other guy say to Stuart as I move on down the coach.  I’m mortified to hear
them both chuckling at the prospect.

“Roomie, come and join me,” Annie trills loudly, thankfully
distracting attention away from my blunder.  All the men on the coach look at
me with undisguised envy on their faces as I move to join her.  There are
actually enough seats available that we don’t need to share rows at all, but it
seems too rude to not sit beside her having been invited, and frankly I’m just
glad to finally be sitting down in my own seat.

“Thank God,” she whispers conspiratorially as I join her, “I
thought I was going to have to fight Stuart off from wanting this seat,” she says
with a wink.  I laugh.

“Would that be so bad?” I wonder out loud.

“Hmm,” she says reflectively as she gives it some thought.  “I
think it’s more a case that we can’t make it too easy for them, now can we?”  I
smile, enjoying being included in the girly chat, despite it being well outside
of my realm of experience.

“But you do like him?” I press.

“He’s not bad.  Mr Right Now if
not Mr Right, perhaps?”  I laugh a little more loudly than usual.  In the
moment of silence that follows I wonder if perhaps I’m not just a bit relieved
Annie seems to have her sights set on Stuart and not the man who looks like Rob
Lowe. 
Must stop calling him Rob
, I realise,
before I do it to his
face
.  Now that would be embarrassing. 
Nearly as embarrassing as
mooning after a man who resembles my teen crush
, I tell myself sternly. 
I
am a 37-year-old married woman, for God’s sake; I need to start acting like it
.

The coach is out of the car park and accelerating up the
road as the on-board microphone system crackles to life.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the start of the Regency
Gym three peaks challenge, in aid of the Emily Fisher Fund!” Stuart declares
loudly and excitedly.  There is a pathetic cheer from within the bus.  “Oh come
on,” he continues, “you can do better than that.”  There is a slightly louder
cheer this time, further enhanced by Annie doing a perfect wolf whistle. 
Stuart looks at her gratefully and gives her a wink.  She blows him a kiss.  I
really envy that easy flirtatious way she has about her.

“Okay,” Stuart speaks again.  “Our lovely driver and the
kind donor of this coach for the weekend – Mr John James – has
suggested we drive for a couple of hours until we get to the M40 and then stop
for some food and a break.  That should let some of the rush hour traffic die
away a bit before we do the last stretch to the house – a donation again
by the most benevolent Mr James Lattimer.”

I realise with a start that he’s looking at Rob Lowe.  “James,”
I breathe under my breath.  “James Lattimer.”  It fits him somehow, sounds
upper-class. 
He definitely has a look of money to him – the sort of
easy elegance that comes from never having had to worry about it
, I think.

“Did you say something?”  Annie asks me.

“No,” I say quickly, “just sniffing.”  She looks at me and
raises an eyebrow.

“Bloody hell, can everyone do that but me?” I ask, pointing
to the offending eyebrow. 

She laughs. “Why, who else can do it?” 

Not willing to expose my fixation with Mr Lattimer, I mumble,
“no one,” and she looks at me and laughs loudly again.

Everyone but us is cheering again, with more gusto this
time, and John and James are waving their arms in recognition.  I realise we’re
thanking them for their generosity to the cause.  After the cheer dies down,
Stuart thanks us for our attention and reminds us we have a break in two hours
before signing off.  The coach quietens, with just a low conversational
mumbling resuming around the seats. 

“I think you and I are going to have the best time,” Annie
says, looking at me intently.  

“I hope so,” I say honestly, “I don’t get away much.”

“So Emma was telling me.”

“Was she! When did you speak to Emma?” I say, slightly
surprised my best friend and my newest friend have been talking about me behind
my back. 

“Oh, we swapped numbers at the pub.  We’ve spoken a couple
of times,” she says offhandedly.

“Oh really – about what?” I ask, unable to keep the
slightly hurt tone out of my voice.

“You,” she says brazenly, twisting in her seat to face me.  “You’re
lucky to have a friend like her.”

“I know.”  I also know I sound like a sulky teenager.

“She wants you to be happy.”

“I am.”

“Are you?  Really?” 

Before I can answer, she speaks again.  “Anyway, this
weekend is all about getting you to relax and have a laugh.”  She’s rummaging in
her pack by her feet as she’s talking to me.  “Voila!” she announces with a
flourish, producing two cans of ready-mixed Pimms and lemonade.  “They were in
my freezer for a couple of hours, so they’re nice and cold,” she says as she
hands me one.  “I had to consider what was acceptable for your poor deadened
palate given all the vodka, lime and sodas you have taken over the years. 
Still, it’ll do the job,” she says, swiftly opening the can and taking a long
swig.  “Ooh, the weekend starts here.” 

I gingerly open my own can and take a swig.  It’s nice.  The
kind of drink you could forget even had alcohol in it. 
Probably
not
good
, I think.    

“So I hear you have a magnifico new dress.”

“I do.” I can’t help the grin appearing on my face. 

She smiles back. “You’re looking good, Lil – you’ve
lost even more weight since I last saw you.”

“Oh my God!  That is like the first time in my whole life
that I’ve received three compliments in one day,” I marvel.  “I might just
start believing it if I’m not careful.”

“Well, you should.  Anyway,” she says conspiratorially,
leaning forward and lowering her voice.  I naturally move towards her as she
continues, “what are they like?” She nods her head towards the other people in
the coach.

“I don’t really know.  I only got here just before you. 
Stuart introduced me to a few people, but the only ones I recognised were
Stuart and Pat so far.  Pat’s nice, I’ve chatted to her a few times at the gym,
but I really don’t know anyone else at all.”

“What about the handsome one who was staring at you?”

“Who?” I say with that kind of false high note which betrays
the lie.  Annie doesn’t even say anything, just looks at me and I crumble.  “Look,
I don’t really know him.  I only heard his name a few minutes ago when Stuart
just said it.”

“So?” she prompts.

“Well, it’s silly, really; I saw him the first day I joined
the gym when I tripped over the mat and nearly took him out, and then he caught
me staring at him just now.” Annie is looking at me with a bemused expression
on her face, forcing me to continue trying to explain.  “I couldn’t help myself.”
I can see a smile forming on her face as I confess, “he looks like Rob Lowe,
the object of all my teenage fantasies,” hoping to God she’s old enough to know
and appreciate him. 

“Oh yeah, he does a bit, doesn’t he!” she says in a tone
that implies she had never thought about it before, but that now I said it she
could see the resemblance, before adding,  “never thought much of him  – too
thin.  I like a bit more to a man, myself.”

“Like Stuart?” I tease.

“Sometimes, but that’s changing the subject.  Let me
summarise what I think you’re telling me.  You were staring at him because he
looks like your teen crush,” I nod mutely as she continues, “but why then was
he staring at you?”

“Really, he wasn’t.  Don’t be silly.” I feel obliged to
add.  Annie just raises one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows at me again.  I
seek desperately to think of something to change the subject before seizing on:
“What are you wearing Sunday night?” 

She clearly knows it’s a distraction, just looking at me for
a moment longer before allowing it to work. Sure enough, Annie delights in
describing the two dresses she has brought for the occasion.  The conversation moves
on to what other clothes she has brought with her, and I marvel she managed to
pack it all in one comparatively small bag.

“So what do you do?” I ask her after we’ve exhausted our
discussion of clothes.

“I run an art gallery.  It’s in Trafalgar Street, the Lord
Gallery.”

“That’s nice,” I say, but even to my ears it sounds
insincere.  It’s too close to home for comfort, a sudden reminder of Greg and
disappointment.  I know her gallery; it’s one Greg has spoken about before,
moaning as ever about the unfairness that so many inferior artists were getting
picked up and featured.  I feel guilty for even speaking the thoughts in my
head.  Disloyal.  Annie is looking at me strangely. 

“I know your husband’s an artist,” she says, as if that were
all the explanation that was required for my odd response, and in a way it was.

“Emma?” I ask.

“Emma,” she confirms.  Well at least that saved some of the
awkwardness which would have ensued when I finally dropped it into the
conversation.  “You should show me some of his stuff sometime.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to.” I feel incredibly
embarrassed and literally cringe.

“I know, but I’m kind of intrigued to see it.  Tell him to
bring it in sometime.”

“I will, thanks.”  I say it more to finish a conversation
that couldn’t feel more awkward if we tried than because I have any intention of
mentioning the offer to Greg. 

After what seems like far too long a time following our
awkward exchange, the coach eventually slows as it pulls off into the services,
and I couldn’t be more grateful to have the chance to get off and interrupt the
direction our conversation was taking.  I stand up quickly when the bus stops
and manage to move up the aisle before most people have gathered their wits,
let alone their belongings.  Stepping off the coach into the cooling evening
air is a relief. 

“Be back in the reception by seven, please, people,” I hear
Stuart saying as I clutch my bag tighter and stride towards the services.  I
quickly make my way to the ladies, mostly because I need a reason to explain to
Annie why I’ve just virtually run off the coach. 
Get a grip, Lily
, I tell
myself sternly, looking at myself in the mirror as I wash my hands in the small
white ceramic basin.  I plaster a false smile on my face and exit the washrooms
in the direction of the restaurant. 

A few of the coach people are already sitting at a table.  I
can see James sitting with one of the few other girls on the trip – a
closer look shows her to be a wiry blonde who couldn’t look less like me; as I
get nearer I see she’s the bitch girl who nearly took me out with the door. 
It
just had to be her, didn’t it?
  They’re sat slightly apart from some of the
others.  I look away as his gaze lifts from the girl (I don’t know her name
yet) and swings to where I’m standing.  I feel a surge shoot through my body
from just his gaze, and it’s connected directly to my groin
.  Jesus
, I
think as I feel the ache building,
I thought the books lied about that sort
of thing
.  I need to get a grip; I’m too old to get this sort of reaction from
a look.  I join the food queue and see Annie and Stuart a couple of people
ahead of me.

“Hi,” I call, feeling awkward as they both turn to look at
me, especially given my undignified exit from the coach, but desperately
needing someone to sit with in the canteen.  Annie is my only friend to date,
and I’m doing my best to ruin that already.

“You okay?” she asks, looking at me intently.

“Yeah, sorry.  I just needed the loo.  I was kind of
desperate – you may have noticed.” I laugh at myself, but it’s awkward.

“No worries,” Stuart says, oblivious to any tension with
Annie and me.

“Sure,” says Annie, and she looks at me sympathetically. 
Bloody
Emma
, I think. 
What the hell has she been telling her?  When I see her
on Monday I’m going to be giving her a piece of my mind
.  I had been
looking forward to being anonymous and reinventing myself with a new group of
friends.  But, thanks to Emma, my miserable little life is right there with me
in Annie’s eyes as she’s looking at me.  I’ve seen it enough times.  I really
hate the pity, it’s always so judgemental.  Resigned to my fate, I do what I’m good
at and distract attention away from me and onto the food.  Annie seems to have piled
huge amounts of everything on her plate.  I look at the prices and choose a
chicken stir fry with a small bowl of plain rice.  It’s cheaper and I suppose isn’t
too bad for my diet efforts.   

We pay and sit down at a table beside the others.  People are
starting to get noisy, as clearly several other people had been tucking into
cans of drink on the coach.  The effects are beginning to be felt, and the tone
of the conversation has turned.  With six girls in the group and eleven men,
there is likely to be some serious ribbing and male posturing in evidence over
the weekend.  While I guess most of the group are married, it doesn’t seem to
stop the constant banter, which has the beginnings of a ‘Carry On’ tone to it. 
I feel out of my depth when a few cheeky comments are flung my way.

My anxiety must show on my face because Annie whispers to me:
“Don’t worry, Lily, they’re only teasing.”

“Yeah, I know.  I’m just not used to it.”

“Well you will be by the end of the weekend,” Stuart chips
in.  “It’s not likely to improve much.  I recommend you just roll with it –
it’s all fairly harmless, but if anyone bothers you then you let me know and I’ll
see them off for you.” It’s sweet, he sounds like a big brother.

“Me too, babe,” Annie adds.  I give them both a big smile,
noting the way Annie is looking at Stuart approvingly. 

“Thanks, guys, really.  But I think I need to stop being a
baby and just enjoy the time I have.”

“Quite right,” says Annie approvingly, handing me another
tin of Pimms from out of her bag to emphasise the point.  I take it from her
and crack it open, taking a long swig.

By the time we have finished eating, it’s nearly time to get
back on the coach.  We wander towards the meeting point where most of the
others are already collecting.  James and the blonde are standing next to each
other, and I can’t help but notice how she keeps touching his arm while they
talk to each other, or how she’s much younger than he is.  He looks to be more
around my own age, but still the touches she gives him send a message.  Seemingly
nothing to the average eye, I know she’s marking her territory.

“He’s not into her,” Annie whispers in my ear.

“How do you know?” I answer unguardedly.  “I mean they look
good together, she’s a good-looking girl, he looks like Rob Lowe...”

Annie laughs. “Sweetie, she is all over him like a rash, but
watch his body language.  He’s not interested, mark my words.” 

I look closer.  Sure enough, every time she moves closer, he
moves marginally further away.  I laugh, wondering why the thought makes me
feel so happy.  One of the guys, I think I remember his name is Pete, comes
over at the sound.

“Hi,” he says, looking a bit awkward.  “Some of us are
thinking about heading down to the local when we get in if it’s not past
closing time.  There’s meant to be one about a mile from the house.  Do you
fancy joining us?” 

For some reason he’s looking at me when he says it and not
Annie, for once.  I feel flustered and don’t know what to say.

“Sure,” is all I can think of in the end.  He looks
pleased.  I smile at him, letting the unfamiliar expression linger on my face
as Pete stands there wittering on about how much fun we’re going to have. I nod
absently, lifting my eyes to lock straight into familiar piercing blue ones. 
My breath catches at the intensity of his gaze.  He actually looks pissed off. 
What the fuck?
I wonder as he scowls at me.  The moment only breaks when
John announces it’s time to get back on the coach and James quickly turns and
slips an arm round the blonde’s waist as they saunter back. 

I scowl and look round to see where Annie is, only to find
her watching me with her arms folded across her chest.  She laughs when she sees
me blush; “curiouser and curiouser,” is all she says.