A Spring Affair (34 page)

There were no signs of life at 1, The Faringdales as Phil keyed in the burglar alarm code: no evidence that Lou had even been back to collect some stuff, which was encouraging. Oh well, he thought, if she wants to play silly buggers then I’ll make it all the harder for her to come back. She wouldn’t be able to stay away from the luxury of his financial support and a house with all the mod-cons for too long. A weekend in Deb’s poky flat sleeping on a couch would soon have her crawling back. He had no doubt that was where she was holed up–and she couldn’t stay at her mother’s as Renee would nag too much. Lou would be back all right, and probably in the next couple of hours. She didn’t have the guts to leave, and he’d seen to it that she didn’t have access to any money in their joint account. That would smoke her out, if nothing else.

Sighing, he switched on the sports channel, poured himself a stiff one and picked up the Indian takeaway menu. He rang for samosas, a chicken bhuna and a couple of stuffed naans to be delivered as soon as possible.

Lou arrived at Deb’s with a carrier bag and rang the bell.

‘Ah, the cavalry with our Chinese banquet. Welcome!’ said Deb, ushering her friend inside. ‘How are you?’

‘I’ll tell you when I’ve unpacked.’

‘You’re staying?’ gasped Deb with glee.

‘Unpacked the fried rice, I mean. No, I’m staying put at May’s flat for now.’

‘You’re mad, Lou.’

‘After all that’s happened to me in the last few days, I’d be mad if I wasn’t mad.’

‘Anything else happened?’

‘Mum told me Dad was unfaithful. I found out she was lying. Oh, and I slept with Tom.’

Deb grabbed the carrier bag. ‘You get the plates, I’ll open the plonk,’ she said quickly.

Lou told her everything.

‘Bloody Norah. All that in two days!’ said Deb, through a face-full of prawn crackers.

‘Yes.’

‘You’ve swept with Mr Broom!’

‘Very funny.’

‘And how do you feel?’

‘As if I’ve been thrown in a spin-drier.’

‘I bet you felt as if you were sat on one last night!’

‘It was better than that,’ said Lou with a grin.

‘Wow, you and Tom Broom,’ said Deb, shaking her head in thrilled amazement. ‘Is he in proportion?’

‘Deb!’

‘I’m your best friend and, as such, there are no sacred details about your boyfriend.’

Boyfriend
. That word made the infatuated-teenage-girl smile slide from her face.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Deb, watching it wither.

‘I’m married. I’m having an affair. It’s so wrong.’

‘Well, you’re not really having an affair, are you?’ Deb said reasonably. ‘You’re not cheating on Phil because you’ve left him. You’re free. You just have to deal with the technicalities of that decision now and get unmarried.’

‘Yes,’ said Lou, not sounding totally convinced. She wasn’t even sure if Phil realized his marriage was at an end. Knowing him, he wouldn’t really believe that she could have found the guts to leave him, which made her marriage still ‘live’ in her opinion. At least until he found out what else she had done behind his back.

‘Anyway, back to the juicy bits. How nice was last night?’

Lou nodded. ‘Lovely.’

‘And
is
he in proportion?’

‘Give over, you mucky tart.’

‘Talking of penises, have you heard from Phil?’

‘No, but I think I might soon,’ said Lou. ‘After what I did.’

‘What have you done?’ asked Deb, stuffing in a piece of prawn toast.

Lou told her that bit too and Deb listened with fascinated shock. Who would ever have thought her mild little friend had it in her?

Lou slept so soundly in the lumpy bumpy bed above
Ma’s Café
that the noise from the builders didn’t wake her until an hour after they had started work. They were
singing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ downstairs in a chorus and Lou smiled. She was getting quite fond of the little flat. It was a clean, fresh space-a sanctuary–just what her head needed. But it could only be a matter of hours before Phil rang. She was surprised he hadn’t done so already, to demand a meeting there and then. The thought of going back to The Faringdales filled her with dread, but she wouldn’t meet him here and spoil the positive air in this space.

The builders downstairs were blowing wolf whistles and taking the mick out of someone. She realized who and why a minute later when there was a knock on the door and she opened it to find Tom, standing there with a bouquet of pink and white flowers.

‘Good morning, gorgeous,’ he said, sweeping her to him with his free arm. ‘I missed you last night.’

‘I missed you too,’ she said and they kissed, with tongues, and it was rather lovely, give or take the angle her neck had to bend in order to enjoy it.

‘I’ll have to go and buy a vase, unless you’ve got a couple of spare milk bottles,’ said Lou, sniffing the blooms.

‘No need,’ he said. ‘They come in a bag of water. You just put them on the table and admire them. Easy.’

‘I don’t deserve you,’ Lou was going to say, but she stopped herself. Maybe she did deserve him. Maybe what she didn’t deserve was to be treated like rubbish by anyone any more.

‘Can I take you out to dinner?’ Tom asked.

Lou smiled but she was shaking her head too. ‘This is awkward,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t want to be…seen…out.’

‘With a big ugly monster like me?’ Tom finished off.

‘No, not at all, and you know I don’t mean that.’

‘It’s OK, I understand,’ said Tom. ‘You wouldn’t enjoy yourself out on the town with another man just after you’ve filed for divorce.’

Lou stared open-mouthed at him. It wasn’t a myth then–there really were blokes who understood the female mentality.

‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘It doesn’t feel right being out on the town. I wouldn’t want to rub Phil’s nose in it, if he found out.’

‘Didn’t stop him doing it to you, though,’ said Tom.

‘In what way?’ said Lou.

‘Flaunting another woman when you could have—’ He realized his mistake immediately.

‘What woman?’ asked Lou, stiffening.

Tom’s mouth opened and shut like a distressed goldfish.

‘Tom?’

Tom Broom was a man of straight lines and for that reason he felt he could do nothing other than come clean and hope for the best. He plonked himself down on her bed and patted the seat beside him, but she wouldn’t sit.

‘Deb saw him with someone,’ said Tom. ‘She was worried sick about you. She didn’t know what to do for the best.’

‘She should have told me,’ said Lou coldly. Tom reached for her hand but she shrugged him off.

‘Listen, Lou–she really didn’t know what to do for the best. I didn’t either.’

‘So that’s what all those concerned little looks you
were giving me were about then,’ said Lou crossly. ‘You both knew and neither of you thought to tell me I was being cuckooed in public.’

Any other time and Tom would have smiled at that, but Lou was hurting and it made him want to wrap her up in his arms and hug her tightly. ‘Lou. Think about what happened last time when Deb told you. I found her breaking her heart because trying to stick a brave face on in front of you just got too much. I made her tell me what the matter was. You didn’t see the state she was in. She was terrified of smashing up your life all over again. Please don’t tell her I told you. I don’t want you to fall out with her about this.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘God, I’m so crap at covering stuff up.’

Lou took a long, hard look at him and a great warm feeling washed over her because she was so highly regarded by two people like this. Two lovely, dear people, who hated lies and deceit and had tried their best to protect her from them. She lifted Tom’s face and kissed him.

‘Can I come round tonight? I’ll cook for you,’ she said.

‘Oh God, yes, please,’ he said, pulling her into his arms and then he kissed her to a serenade of ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’ from the workmen below them.

‘Leave it with me, Jack. I’ll get the monies transferred now,’ said Phil to the gruff voice on the other end of the telephone. ‘I’ll just give the bank a tinkle. Ring you back in a bit, mate.’

He hung up and Tannoyed his secretary, telling her to go out and get him a bacon and sausage sandwich from the shop around the corner.
Where the fuck was Lou?
He had expected her to be back in the house by now. The washing was piling up and the freezer stocks were fast diminishing. There were no welcoming smells from the oven to greet him when he got home, plus he’d done something to the central heating and thrown all the settings out. Not only was the house dark when he got home, but it was hot enough to grow bananas in. And he was sick of the bloody microwave ‘tinging’ that his meal was ready. All plans of a cosy reconciliation were now gone. He was already wondering if he should resurrect his relationship with Sue Shoesmith and carry on with teaching Lou a lesson when she deigned to come back–whenever that would be.

He hit the fast-dial button for the bank and went through the security questions that confirmed his identity. Then he gave instructions for some monies to be
transferred over to Fat Jack’s account. The woman at the bank kept him on hold for an eternity, listening to what felt like the whole repertoire of Take That. And when she eventually came back to him, he listened in frustrated disbelief to what she had to say.

‘You must have that wrong, love,’ he argued. ‘There’s plenty of money in that account to cover this transfer. More than enough.’

Where did they get the sodding staff for these places–Bimbos Incorporated? He was put on hold once again whilst Gary Barlow lamented his non-ability to commit to his bird, and just when he was about to slam down the phone and go storming into the branch in person, she came back to him with her information. Phil listened in jaw-dropped horror.

‘When? Who?
How
much?’

Phil put down the phone before his shaking hand dropped it. It appeared that lamb roasts were not going to be on the agenda for the foreseeable future.

He hadn’t wanted to ring first, but she had left him no choice.

Lou saw Phil’s name flash up on the mobile. She took a deep breath and pressed connect.

‘Lou?’ he said, as calmly as his adrenaline levels would allow.

‘Phil,’ she said, as calmly as her adrenaline levels would allow.

‘Where are you? What’s going on?’

‘I’ve left you. Didn’t you get my note?’

OK, thought Phil, working through a process of logic. Deb had probably told her about seeing him with Sue
after all, and she was really,
really
pissed off. He needed to stay calm and pitch this correctly. What was that proverb again? Let something go and eventually it’ll come back to you. Hopefully, with all the fucking money it had ripped out of your business account.

‘Yes, I got your note, Lou.’ He used her name, women liked that, so he used it again. ‘Lou, I know you’re angry, love, but don’t do anything hasty. I haven’t changed the locks or anything stupid like that, so you can come home any time. Please, I know you want space to think…’

‘I’ve done all the thinking I want to,’ said Lou, wondering when he was going to mention the business account money. She wasn’t stupid–she knew that was the only thing that would have caused him to ring her.

‘Lou, I’m not going to harass you but please, promise me you will take some more time to mull things over. Just think some more–that’s all I ask.’

‘Phil…’

‘
Please
.’

The word sounded very genuine and it threw her. Maybe he needed a little time too, she thought–to come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t coming back. So kindly she said, ‘OK.’

‘That’s all I wanted to say. Bye, love.’

‘Bye.’

Phil knew by the soft way she said that single word that she still wanted him.

She just felt the need to stamp her foot a bit. He gave her a fortnight max. Then he’d review his tactics.

That evening, after a delicious pork and mustard casserole, Lou stood up to leave. Tom tried to pull her back
down onto the sofa where they had spent three solid hours talking. His eyes were glazed over from the effort of trying not to touch her.

‘I have to go, Tom,’ she smiled.

‘Lou, can we just pretend I never said I wanted to do all this courting stuff. I can’t stand it. I want you to stay.’ He caught her arm and despite her giggling protest, he rolled her underneath him. ‘Please, Lou, stay or I’ll squash you flat. No pressure of course.’

The combination of her wriggling and giggling beneath him was turning him on so much he had to let her go before he exploded and blew up the new sofa. She was all flushed and her hair was stuck up all over the place.

‘I hate you, Tom Broom,’ she smiled, getting well out of his way.

‘Move in,’ he said, gently this time. ‘I’m forty next month. That could be your birthday present to me.’

‘Tom…’

‘Don’t go.
Per favore, non andartene, bella signora
…’

‘That’s not fair, using Italian! Below the belt, Tom Broom.’

‘I know, I know,’ he conceded, reaching for her hand and playing with her fingers, anticipating what she was going to say. He knew Lou had her values, and despite his frustration, Tom loved her all the more for them. Yes, he loved her. Thank God Phil Winter was such a total fool.

As if he had transmitted that name psychically to her she said, ‘Phil phoned me today.’

Tom bristled. ‘What for?’

‘He wanted to give me some time to think about
what I was doing,’ said Lou indifferently, although her tone did nothing to stop Tom’s smile drying up faster than a raindrop on the sun.

‘And do you need time?’ he asked softly.

Lou came forward to give him a reassuring hug.

‘Do you think I’d be here with you if I needed time? Phil is as tight as a duck’s backside without a paddle,’ she said. ‘His reason for phoning was purely financial, though he didn’t say it. He doesn’t fool me. Right, I’m going home.’

‘I hate you going back to that place,’ said Tom. ‘Do you want to take Clooney?’

Clooney’s ears pricked up in his basket in the hallway at the sound of his name.

‘No, he’s all warm and comfortable here,’ said Lou.

She got the car keys from her bag and Tom took her out to the car and kissed her goodbye with a snog that made every nerve from her brain to her big toes sigh.

Deb had said Phil was a manipulative cunning fox, thought Tom as he waved Lou off, and it very much appeared as if he had started mounting his offensive to win her back. Tom was worried.