Crappily Ever After (13 page)

‘So, what are you doing right now? I mean, where exactly are you?’

‘Well, I just had dinner on my own and was contemplating a pint. I am standing outside a bar, near my hotel. I am wearing the top you bought me for my birthday and jeans and trainers, anything else?’ Alfie laughs, but there’s no smile behind it.

I begin to walk towards the door and push it open.

‘That’s not the top I bought for your birthday,’ I say. ‘I bought you the red one.’

He turns and does a double take. The girls have their faces pressed against the window.

‘Lucy,’ he yells, before giving me a huge hug. ‘I thought you were in Brighton!’

‘And I thought you were in Barcelona,’ I deadpan.

‘Trip cancelled, last minute, didn’t want to say as it’s a mate’s stag party weekend. I never mentioned it so you couldn’t persuade me not to go,’ Alfie babbled quickly.

It did make sense. I would have persuaded him to stay in London with me. God, what kind of girlfriend had I become that he had to lie to get time out?

 ‘I’m sorry, Alfie,’ I say, hanging my head. ‘I feel terrible that you think of me that way.’

He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head.

 ‘I don’t think of you that way and, believe me, I would rather be with you. I do, however, want to hold on to my friends, so this is a necessary evil,’ and he gestures toward the bar. ‘Well, since both of our plans have changed and we find ourselves randomly thrown together, why don’t you

get the girls over to our table?’

‘Great idea!’ I smile and head inside to gather my brood.

‘What the fuck?’ exclaims Amy. ‘You actually believe that shit?’

‘It’s not shit,’ I snap irritably. ‘Come on. Let’s join them.’

The girls reluctantly trail behind me. Jill immediately starts to grill Alfie.

He good-naturedly answers all her questions.

‘Of course it’s not suspicious that I said I was in Barcelona,’ he laughs. ‘I mean, Lucy said she was in Brighton, didn’t she? I don’t find that
suspicious.’
He leans in to Jill and says the last word conspiratorially.

My friends aren’t convinced, but go along with the evening as planned. We all head to a club at midnight, the earlier drama quickly becoming a distant memory as we drink and dance. The girls flirtatiously eye up Alfie’s selection of gorgeous mates. Later, I go to stay in Alfie’s suite. Much bigger and posher than our tiddly B&B. Next morning, I take a lift back with the girls. The atmosphere is tense. In the cold light of day, the unlikely scenario of Alfie’s trip being cancelled, and him just happening to be in the same pub in Southampton as us, has reared its head again. I can tell it has been discussed in much detail. I decide it’s up to me to bring up the events of last night. Taking a deep breath, I launch into the subject.

‘Look, I want to discuss with you this whole Alfie-in-Southampton thing.’ Em’s foot presses hard on the accelerator. Flicking her brown eyes at me in the rear view mirror, her pretty face set in determination. She is the one who is most protective of me; maybe because I met her first, she saw me at my most vulnerable. She is a no-mess Aussie girl. Jill, Amy and I cling on to the nearest fixed object. Amy looks at me, with pity.

‘I’m worried, Luce. Sorry, you know I don’t like to interfere but, I just feel there is more to this.’

‘I know. And I know you’re all only looking out for me because you care. My instincts say he’s not hiding anything, but Hell mend me if I’m wrong. We all know I have previous on that! So, I guess what I’m saying is that I give you free rein to delve into what you can find and, well, I guess I will hear you out if there is anything dubious.’

My friends brighten at this. They do love to play detective. I just so hope they are wrong, but even I am now beginning to have my reservations.      

Somehow we make it back in one piece. Em’s erratic driving leaving us all in silent terror throughout the whole journey. There seems no going back from this weekend. I have to face it. Can I trust Alfie? My friends don’t seem to think so. Is it so weird that he was in Southampton? I didn’t tell him our location had changed and I was doing nothing wrong. What’s to say he was? I mentally replay the reaction on his face on seeing me. Shock? Surprise? Maybe a bit of both? He was almost unreadable. The sign of a liar? Or the sign of someone who really thought nothing of the situation he found himself in? My head pounds. Every time I replay the scene, Alfie’s reaction changes, until I no longer know which the real one was anymore.

We get home and immediately go our separate ways. Emily heads straight to her room, slamming the door. I hear her talking angrily to someone on her mobile. Jill runs a bath. She has a shift in the restaurant later tonight. Amy heads to the computer and turns the screen away from me, before looking up apologetically and telling me she is just going to give her no-show ‘Millionaire’ what for, for standing her up. I shrug and head into the kitchen and switch the kettle on. I know what she’s doing. Looking for evidence. I know this for a fact because, an hour later, I check the history and find the name Alfred James Hughes has been searched. Fair enough, I gave them the go ahead.

Emily comes to find me in my room later and finds me half-heartedly reading a week-old magazine on my bed, a cold coffee next to me.

‘Come on, I’m taking you out,’ she orders. It’s Em’s way of saying she cares, without actually saying she cares. An hour later and we’re all sitting in Jill’s place of work for dinner. It’s quiet, so Jill sits with us and sneaks drinks from our glasses when no-one is looking.

‘Jill and I have been thinking,’ announces Em, ‘We’re going to back off from this whole Alfie thing, it’s your decision and I guess it’s not so weird. I mean, we said we’d be in Brighton and we weren’t. I guess it’s not so suspicious. And if there is anything dodgy about him, well I guess you’ll find out eventually.’ I feel as if a weight has been lifted off me.

‘I’ll drink to that.’ I raise my glass and Jill and Em follow, clinking hard and spilling some of the liquid onto the tablecloth. Jill ducks down as her boss walks by, staring lasciviously at the merry group. A hesitant Amy eventually raises her glass and clinks solemnly. She’s yet to be convinced, but convince her I will. Right after I convince myself.

                                                      Chapter Nine      

Two fairly uneventful weeks on, and I’m fidgeting nervously in the airport as Alfie and I wait for our flight to Venice. I absolutely hate flying. I do know that, statistically, it’s safer than being in a car. That only serves to make me more scared about getting in cars, not less worried about flying. I anxiously down my glass of wine like an alcoholic fresh out of a failed rehab attempt.

Boarding announced. Alfie steers me down towards the tunnel of death, as I’ve named it. The walk between the safety of
terra firma
and the plane is probably one of the most nerve-wracking things for me. My knees buckle. He laughs and pulls me forward.

‘I’m going, I’m going,’ I insist irately ‘Stop dragging me.’

Part of my anxiety isn’t just about the flight. It’s that I know in my heart that I am right. There is something he isn’t telling me. I feel a bit insecure leaving my friends to be alone with someone I can’t trust one hundred per cent any more. I know he’s been through a lot but still, in the back of my mind, it’s there. Tormenting me. I do listen to my instincts – and often – despite wishing desperately that they are wrong. I find that they never are.           

I fiddle nervously with my magazine as we taxi to the runway. The jets kick in and I am pushed back in my seat. I begin mumbling the Lord’s Prayer to myself. Didn’t even realise I remembered it.

‘Thy Kingdom won’t be done on here, love,’ laughs Alfie, ‘and you’ll be lucky to get your daily bread with this airline. Maybe a packet of peanuts. As for forgiving your trespasses, you’re in England now. Trespassing laws do exist.’

I dig him in the ribs and attempt some deep breathing I saw on a childbirth video at college years ago. If it helps with pushing something the size of a melon out of something the size of a pea, then it may just help with flight nerves.

As the seatbelt sign is switched off, people begin to leave their seats and mill about the plane. They head to the toilet or loiter in the aisles, chatting to friends from whom they have been separated. I watch as one man in his early thirties makes his way back to his seat from the toilet. He stops two seats ahead of us and exclaims:

‘Alfie! How’s it going mate?’ Alfie looks at him, then at me. He seems uncomfortable. Probably an ex-employee he had to fire or something. That’s all we need.

‘Jamie, mate! Good! Good. You? You off on holiday?’

‘Yeh, mini break, Sarah insisted,’ he rolls his eyes. ’The kids are with the outlaws. So, you on – er – business? This a work colleague?’ Jamie looks pointedly at me. Alfie doesn’t reply straight away. An uncomfortable pause hangs between all three of us. Why isn’t he telling Jamie that I’m his girlfriend?

Instead, he says:

‘Yeh, business trip, isn’t it, Lucy. Probably boring as arse but, well, needs must. You know how it is.’

‘Yes, mate,’ laughs Jamie. ‘I know
exactly
how it is. Have a good trip.’ Jamie heads back to his seat. Alfie looks out of the window. I glance over my shoulder in time to see Jamie pointing in our direction and whispering. His wife, Sarah, gives me the up and down look that only females are capable of. No straight man will ever understand the up and down look. They are incapable of seeing it. Gay men can see it and do it to each other and women. Women only do it to other women.

‘She probably was just admiring your outfit,’ has been said to me by many a boyfriend. It’s a completely different kind of look to the ‘admiring an outfit’ look.

‘What’s her problem?’ I say to Alfie, giving Sarah an up and down back.

‘Snooty cow,’ dismisses Alfie. ‘She knew Polly. Probably doesn’t approve of me seeing someone else after two years. Probably not socially acceptable yet in her eyes.’

‘Three years,’ I remind him, gently.

‘Hmm?’ he says distractedly, glancing at London decreasing beneath us. ‘What’s three years?’

‘Since Polly died.’

‘You’re right, Lucy. It is nearly three years. Feels like yesterday.’ Alfie gazes sadly out the window.

Poor guy. He’s still so traumatised he forgets how long it’s been.

Of course, I make out flying was no big deal as we arrive in Venice. I will repeat the procedure two days later on the way home, but for now, it was nothing. We arrive at the hotel and I look around in amazement. Alfie pulls out a bottle of Champagne from the mini bar. I checked out the prices on arrival. He has just uncorked half my weekly wage! I flop backwards onto the firm, springy mattress.

‘Oh, I could so get used to being your wife,’ I think aloud. A momentary flash of terror crosses Alfie’s eyes. He turned away quickly, but I caught it.

‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry.’ Fuck! How insensitive.

‘I’m glad you brought that up, Lucy,’ he smiles and sits beside me, playing with the fringe on the cashmere bed throw. ‘It’s something I do want with you, one day. I’m not quite ready to go there again yet. I do imagine it though.’ His smile is wistful. It’s enough for me, this ‘one day’ thing. I’ll work on it.

‘Do you like the name Zuzu for a girl?’ I enquire, coyly.

‘Why not,’ he laughs and shrugs.

We have an amazing weekend of sight-seeing and meals out. I have had the best time and am sorry to be heading back to London – and normality. I actually don’t feel too nervous on the flight home. It’s been a great bonding session and I know now that I have to trust him. If Em and Jill can put their suspicions aside, then so can I. We both have a week off now, and it will be nice to continue our holiday back home.

We arrive back at the Chelsea pad, order a takeaway, switch on a romantic comedy and crack open a bottle of wine. We are just thinking about heading to bed when Alfie’s mobile goes. He looks at the screen.

‘Shit, work,’ he mumbles, turning away from me.

‘Don’t answer! You’re on your holidays, for Christ’s sake.’

‘I have to Lucy. It’s “Boss Home.”’ He turns the phone to show me the screen. ‘It has to be important.’

He leaves the room and I feel my heart sink. This is the downside of a luxury lifestyle. The money to fund it has to be earned somehow. Alfie walks back into the room and gathers up his laptop.

‘I have to go to Geneva, I’m so sorry Lucy.’ He kisses me, briefly, on the cheek. With that, he is gone. Deflated, I switch off the television and put the wine bottle back in the fridge. I switch off the lights and stand for a moment picking out shapes in the darkened front room. A streetlight hums and flickers out on the street. It’s a familiar sound that doesn’t bring its usual comfort. I pull the front door closed and, with a deep sigh, head for home. I don’t want to be here on my own anymore.

I arrive back home to find Em, Amy and Jill getting ready for a big night out. They seem to never stop partying. Where does all that energy come from? I certainly don’t have it. I’m in a foul mood and try to sneak to my room unnoticed.

‘Come on Lucy, you know you want to come. We’re going to Walkie,’ Em tries to tempt me by grabbing my arms and dancing suggestively with me.

‘Nope, I’m going to put on my jammies and veg out in front of the TV,’ I announce.

They attempt to badger me for another half an hour ‘til I eventually run a bath, take off my make-up and put a face pack on.

‘Fine, have it your way,’ Em shouts through the door. ‘You know where we are if you change your mind.’

I lie in the bath and call Alfie. His phone rings. I had expected voicemail. Maybe he’s arrived already. It has been two and a half hours since he left.

‘Hey you,’ I say, when he answers.

‘Hi,’ he says quietly, ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing,’ I reply, a bit miffed at his brusque manner, ‘just wanted to say hello to my boyfriend.’

‘Look, Luce I forgot my charger and the battery is really low. We may get cut off here.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Geneva, Lucy,’ he mumbles impatiently.

‘Alfie?’ I hear a voice at the other end of the phone. Female.

‘Who’s that?’ I demand.

‘Work colleague. Miranda. We are going over the minutes of the last meeting,’ he sighs dismissively. ‘Look, I’ll call you when I get back, probably the day after tomorrow. I think my phones about to cut…’

‘off.’ I finish for him – and throw my mobile to the floor.    

I lie in the bath and ponder. There was something funny about that call. No, not Miranda being there. I’ve met her, totally loved-up with her husband and twin boys. She would be safer to leave Alfie with than, say, a nun? Besides, it’s such a big company that he’s rarely away on his own. He often comes back with stories of how they start out with good intentions of working and end up hammered. I can’t put my finger on what it is that’s not quite right. Obviously, it’s not that important or it would come to me straight away. It’s just the disappointment of thinking we were in for a nice few days off together. On a sudden urge to be with my friends, I pull the plug out from the bath and quickly get dried. Chucking on some clothes, I give Em a ring to say I’ll be along soon.

‘Yay!’ I hear her cheer above the noise of the club. Ten minutes later and I’m on my way.

Pushing through the double doors of Walkie, I search around. Some lairy shrieks and high-pitched laughter directs me towards them. On taking in the girls’ drunken behaviour, I decide not to drink tonight. Is that how I usually look? I‘m in far too strange a mood to add alcohol.

I order a soft drink and attempt to join in the conversation my friends are having. I can’t help but feel a bit left out. It’s been so long since I socialised with them regularly, that I now no longer know half the people they talk about.

‘Did Dan and Mickey say they’d be out tonight?’ asks Jill, with a coy smile.

 ‘I can’t remember.’ Amy tilts her head to one side: ‘When is it they go to Greece?’

‘Not sure.’ Jill looks deflated at the thought of not seeing them.

‘Call them,’ says Emily.

‘No!’ yells Jill, ‘they might think I fancy them.’

‘Well, you do,’ states Amy. ‘I may just call Dan and tell him,’ she laughs, shaking her mobile at Jill.

‘Oh you bitch! You dare!’ Jill makes a grab for it and knocks two pints off the next table.

‘Uh-oh, bouncer moving in at three o’clock,’ says Em, quickly looking down in denial of association.

‘So sorry, can I buy you another?’ stammers Jill, to the obviously pissed-off couple wearing a pint of lager each. The bouncer pulls himself up to his full height and glares at Jill.

‘I’m sorry, I really am, don’t throw me out,’ she begs, whilst simultaneously fluttering her eyelashes. ‘I have offered to buy them another drink. You won’t hear another peep out of me.’ He nods briefly to the other bouncer closing in, and they both back off.

‘For fuck’s sake, Jill! Are you trying to get us barred from our local?’ hisses Amy, taking her phone back out, pressing a few buttons and holding it to her ear. Jill gives a little squeal of protest and glances at the bouncer, who is watching her carefully.

‘Oooh, aren’t you a lucky girl?’ Amy says sarcastically. ‘Long ring tone, they are in Greece. But luckily, my credit won’t stretch to more than three seconds.’

She snaps shut her phone and pops it back in her denim jacket pocket. We all giggle at Jill’s obvious relief.

Hang on a minute. Long ring tone. That’s what was missing when I called Alfie. How can he be abroad with a UK ring tone? My mind searches for a reasonable excuse. He answered, it’s not even like he left his phone at home. I saw him pop it in his briefcase before he left. I can’t think of a single reason to justify this one. Where the hell is
he?            

I argue with myself for an hour before deciding to tell the girls about the call to Alfie. They look on seriously as I explain. The reason I struggled with myself over whether to mention it or not is because it would only alienate them further from him, which would make it stressful for me any time I wanted an objective view from them. Or to bring him around to ours. But, on the other hand, when do I do that? And I do need the support of my friends.

‘Oh Lucy,’ Emily gives me a squeeze. ‘We did some research. Alfie has a house in Southampton. Amy found a planning permission application for him on the Internet. We weren’t going to tell you tonight, but since you’ve brought it up…’ she trails off.