Crappily Ever After (28 page)

The week flies by far too quickly, as time off always does. Everyone has had a great time and the kids have taken to their first overseas holiday like ducks to water. My sister looks happier than she’s been in years, and attracted lots of attention from the Spaniards. She has a list of phone numbers from men hoping to take her out on a date when she comes back in July. She’s still flirting lots with Mike. She won’t call the Spaniards and Mike won’t be back here, I can feel it. Well, I’ll be fine on my own. I can do it. Maybe Pablo’s wife would help in the kitchen? I can try and arrange some childcare for the baby and after-school care for the other kids. Anyway, we’ll see. Tomorrow, I’m flying back with Mike and my family. This is our break until Easter. It feels really weird to be going home. I won’t be living with Mike. We are so used to each other; it feels like I’m missing a limb when he’s not around. Like an old, married couple, we even finish each other’s sentences. Nothing has been mentioned about travel plans this time. I want to suggest something, but don’t want Mike to get the wrong idea. But he will probably be down from Aberdeen to see Mary, so I will get to catch up on all his gossip. I decide I’ll head over to Dublin to see Becky. Just jump on a flight from Edinburgh airport. It will be a nightmare flying alone, but at least no-one will have to put up with my constant worrying. If it wasn’t for the fact that my sea sickness is worse than my fear of flying, I’d take the ferry. After all, I can swim but I cannot fly. Mike is hugely impressed that I’ll do it alone, but a flicker of worry crosses his face. I miss Becky and I want to catch up with her. I also feel like having a little chilled-out holiday before I go back to the craziness of home. It will also give Mary and Mike a chance to chat without me being around as a spare part on the train journey.    

I text Becky from the airport and she says of course its fine to come over and she can’t wait to see me. We all arrive back in Edinburgh and I head to the desk to see if I can book a last-minute flight. There is a flight to Dublin in just under two hours. I have to wait to see if it will be full. Probably not, they reckon; it‘s common for short flights to have one or two people not turn up as they’re often on business trips, and therefore don‘t care too much if they miss it and the company is paying the cost. I walk Mike and my family to the door of the airport. They will take the train home together and Mike will stay on until Aberdeen. I hug Mum, Mary and the kids and tell them I will see them in a few days. Mike hovers self-consciously, before leaning in for a hug. We share an awkward embrace and Mike goes to kiss my cheek at the same time as I go to kiss his, resulting in what is an embarrassing full-on smacker. I blush furiously and Mike fakes a coughing fit to cover his red face. Mary smiles slyly and gives me a sidelong glance.

‘Well, if you two are finished molesting each other, we’d best be off,’ Mum declares.

‘Good old Ma, always says what I want to,’ Mary giggles.

After an awkward goodbye, I head back to the check-in desk. They have a seat on this flight. Great! I couldn‘t be bothered waiting around three hours for the next one. I head to the bar, via the toilet. This was the stupidest of stupid ideas, flying alone. My phone beeps.

Becky: ‘Hi babes will be at airport to pick u up at 5. Cya then.’

I put my phone away. It beeps again.

Mike: ‘U OK? Worried bout u!’

Me: ‘Cos I’m best snog u ever had? U after more?’

Mike: ‘Ur Ma just asked what I’m laughing at. I’m gonna tell her.’

Me: ‘NO!’

Mike: ‘Yes!’

Me: ‘NOOOOO!’

Mike: Yes! Oops! Too late.’

Me: Git! I shall never snog u again.’

Mike: ‘Bet u wanna tho! Stay safe Hun. Text when u get thr. Miss ya.’

I press Mike’s message to save. Why did I do that? I order another drink. Oh well, by the time he gets back he’ll have arranged a date with Mary. Fair play to him – she’s a real catch, even if she doesn’t think so. Another beep from my phone:

Mary: ‘Chatting shit to the fox that is Michael. Seriously there’s sumat wrong wi u if u don’t fancy him!’

Me: ‘He fancies u!’

Then nothing, I switch off my phone and board the flight.

                                               Chapter Twenty-three                      

I arrive in Dublin just before teatime. I have never been to Ireland before. It reminds me a lot of Scotland. Very green, very lush and, if you’re listening with the ear of an outsider, you’d not have a clue what anyone is saying. I collect my case and head off to find Becky, pausing briefly to switch on my phone to text Mike, then Mary, to say I’ve arrived safely. No point in texting Mum, I’d only get a reply three months later asking where have I arrived safely to? Her phone is stuck on Caps Lock too. She never has been able to work it – and that was even before Josh messed about and put it all in French. She doesn’t do technology.      

It wasn’t too painful a flight. Barely in the air and then we were landing again. I was sat next to a grumpy-looking businessman who didn’t look like he’d take too kindly to any ‘what’s that noise?’ conversations. I had no choice but to get on with it and suffer through my pain. My phone beeps twice before I can even retrieve it from my bag.     

Mary: ‘Glad u r safe. Mike is such a shag. If u don’t I will!’

Mike: ‘Glad ur ok. Weird without u. Fancy a wknd in Aberdeen soon?’      

 I beam, and quickly type back that I’d love to. I feel a nice buzz. Mike does seem to fancy Mary, but she appears to be oblivious. It’s only natural that Mike would miss me as we spend all our time together. It’s nice to be missed, parting and sweet sorrows and the like. I walk through arrivals and hear an excited scream. I follow the noise with my eyes and see an ecstatic-looking Becky, waving frantically at me. I make my way towards her and she squeezes me like she’ll never let go.

‘I have so missed you,’ she announces, linking arms with me. ‘How are you? How’s the business?’    

‘Better than ever – me and the business, that is,’ I smile. I feel a slight pang of guilt that she is no longer part of it, but she looks so happy. She definitely made the best decision for her, with the added bonus of no longer stinking of chip fat. We walk out towards her car. I stare in amazement as Becky points her key fob and unlocks a flashy red sporty number that Bob has bought her to apologise for shagging the girl from work. 

‘Almost worth it,’ announces Becky. I laugh an attempt of agreement. I must admit that’s it’s a great gift to say sorry with. Though still not convinced it was worth it. Almost or otherwise. We drive to her house, chatting and laughing all the way. I’m relieved to see there’s no awkwardness between us. I think Mike being around would have affected things, but the old Becky and Lucy dynamic is still there.               

We arrive at Becky’s house and unload my case. I turn to take in the view.   

‘Wow! Look at this place Becks, it’s gorgeous!’ And it is, even if I have only seen the outside so far. It screams wealthy, all leafy and suburban with imposingly grand homes surrounding us.    

‘I know,’ she squeaks, and squeezes my arm. We walk into Becky’s gorgeous red brick three-storey town house. I take in the split-level front room with a deep, plush white rug over the polished original floorboards. Two squashy, red velvet sofas dominate the room and there, in the corner, is a state-of-the-art sound system that I wouldn’t even attempt to work out. The front room is massive, with a bay window that looks onto the private garden and duck pond. Up some spiral stairs, leading to nowhere, is a gallery. How frivolous to spend all that money on a staircase to nowhere. It overlooks the living room. Real paintings, not prints, each illuminated by individual lights, but low enough not to damage the paintings. It looks like something out of a London riverside show home. I am insanely jealous. I wander in awe into the kitchen. There is a huge Aga stove with a large wooden chopping block in the middle of the kitchen. Pots and pans hang from the beams. The worktops are marble and stainless steel fixtures gleam under the spotlights. I quickly move on to the bathroom, needing to drink it all in. There is a sunken jaccuzi bath surrounded by Jo Malone candles, gorgeous terracotta tiled floor and a massive wet room with power shower that could knock you off your feet if you weren’t expecting the force. There are five bedrooms, all in varying colour schemes, and a huge dining room with a twelve-seater table. Basically, everything I would ever dream of in a home.   

‘Who did you let him shag to get this?’ I look around in wonder. ‘Angelina Jolie?’  

Becky giggles:

‘It is gorgeous, isn’t it? I am so happy this time around. Bob says it made him realise what he could have lost, and he’ll do anything to make me happy.’ She twirls around in joy, like a little girl.   

‘I am so pleased for you, Becky,’ I say, slipping my arm around her waist. ‘And so bloody jealous, you cow.’ She laughs delightedly and pulls out a bottle of wine from a well-stocked rack in the wine cellar.           

Two bottles later and Bob arrives home. He looks like a different person from when I saw him last. He kisses me hello on each cheek, and smacks Becky playfully on the bottom. She squeals and throws me an apologetic look.   

‘Did you tell Lucy yet?’ he asks.   

‘Tell me what?’ I eye them both suspiciously in turn.   

Becky coyly holds out her left hand. A rock that would feed starving millions, if ever sold, glistens on Becky’s finger. How could I have missed it?  

‘Oh my God! You never told me you were engaged,’ I shout. ‘When is the wedding?’

‘In March,’ she smiles indulgently at Bob, ‘we wanted to make sure it was off season so you can be my bridesmaid… Will you?’ 

‘Of course! It would be an honour. Congratulations.’ I give them both a hug, attempting to mask the fact that I do feel a tiny bit uneasy at this news. It’s extremely fast.     

After an amazing home cooked meal by Becky, we sit around the crackling log fire and chat about the restaurant. Bob pays a particular interest in the business side of things and Becky enjoys the stories about Pablo, the other staff and the customers. She’s very much a people person and tires easily of business talk.    

‘How is Mike?’ Becky eventually asks.   

I glance at Bob. He doesn’t appear to show even an ounce of jealousy, just smiles contently. I have intentionally left any information on Mike out, in case it causes awkwardness.  

‘He’s good,’ I reply. ‘Sam turned up out of the blue, new man in tow.’ 

 ‘No,’ laughs Becky ‘did he tell her to get lost?’

‘He did, it was hilarious. Her face was a picture. He told her that her implants had sagged. She ran screaming for the hills. It was her man I felt sorry for, though. She dragged the poor bloke out in the middle of his lunch. Humiliating enough that she was

so blatantly coming on to her ex in front of him, without making him look like a lapdog.’ I shake my head at the memory. ‘But Mike was cool as anything, He pretended we were together. She was fuming.’

‘Maybe you should be,’ Becky looks at me slyly, but with a smile.

 ‘Oh, don’t you start,’ I laugh, and shake my head, ‘I hear that all the time.’  

 ‘Well, I always thought you two would make a great couple,’ Becky continues, ‘I always thought he had a thing for you when we were together. A kind of admiration.’  

Oh no, not another one! And I certainly don’t feel comfortable discussing this with Becky, Bob or no Bob.   

‘Yes, but only because I managed to pull together a lot of funds at the last minute and not even to my credit – it was an inheritance. Nothing more,’ I say hurriedly. But I flush, and Becky notices with a smile. 

‘Well, just so you know, I’d be absolutely fine with it if you did get together. He’s a great guy. I just had someone greater, to me.’ She smiles over at Bob. He smiles sleepily and sighs gently. He must be putting in all the hours God sends to have come up with a place like this.  

‘Well, I best get “Sleeping Beauty” off to bed. Let’s do lunch tomorrow. Just me and you, like the old times.’

‘That sounds great,’ I reply, yawning and stretching. It’s been a long day. We all head upstairs. My room is the main guest room with
en suite
. The purple room, Becky and Bob call it.  I slip between the Egyptian cotton sheets and fall immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.