Escape for the Summer (8 page)

Angel had rung off, en route to find Andi and blag a loan, and Gemma had made her way to the bus stop. Just the thought of a summer back at home, waking to the call of the gulls rather than the wail of sirens, perked her up. She could hardly wait for Angel to get home so that they could start putting their plan together. The idea of lemon sunshine, sharp salty air, glittering water and watermelon slices of beach made Gemma tingle with excitement. She hardly dared hope that in just a few days’ time she could be back in Cornwall.

Two sausage-and-bean melts and one doughnut later, Gemma let herself into the basement flat. There was no sign of Angel. Only a trail of glossy magazines and plates evidenced that she had been in at all. Gemma sighed; her friend was terribly messy. Angel left more devastation in her wake than the most severe hurricane.

She shrugged off her wet gear and stomped into the kitchen. After one hot chocolate and four rock cakes she felt ready to boot up her laptop and embark on some research for their brainwave.

So it wasn’t Shakespeare or the dazzling film career that she had once dreamed of, but it was a start
.
If her dad’s farmer friend still owned that caravan just outside Rock then maybe, just maybe, things were going to change for both her and Angel.
Feeling hopeful, she composed an email to him and then sent it into the ether with a prayer.

There, it was done – and Gemma sensed that this was the start of something good.

Chapter 8

Andi was so lost in thought that she didn’t quite know how she made it home. One moment she was in Starbucks, and the next she was back in Clapham, surfacing from the Tube as though awakening from a dream. Not that she really lived in Clapham anyway; no, strictly speaking it was Balham, although Tom would rather poke his eyes out than admit that. She’d tried arguing this point once and he’d sulked for days. As sure as Andi was that Coventry was a lovely place, she’d no wish to live there and had finally cracked. Now she agreed that they lived in Clapham, even if it was the tatty end near the gasworks, and everybody was happy. Or at least until the astronomical rent was due.

At the thought of rent, her stomach lurched. How the hell was she going to pay it if her account really was empty? Tom had better have a bloody good explanation.

That was strange: the curtains were drawn at their attic window. Was Tom poorly? Or maybe he’d gone out and had forgotten to open them? Or maybe he was still in bed? She hadn’t worked from home since the
Safe T Net
job had started. He could sleep all day for all Andi knew.

“Tom?” she called, ditching her keys in the fruit bowl and heading for the kettle. “Tom? It’s me!”

Odd. There was no reply. He wasn’t due anywhere, not as far as she could remember. It was only Monday and he hadn’t got a casting until Thursday. Their flat was so small you couldn’t swing a gerbil in it, so he had to be in the bedroom. The kettle was still warm. He’d probably made a cup of coffee and gone back to bed. They were going to need to have a serious heart-to-heart now about his finding work. Any work.

She flicked the kettle back on and lobbed a tea bag into a mug. A hit of PG tips was definitely required if she was going to tackle the important question of
Where the bloody hell was her money?
There were even bigger questions too, which she knew she’d ignored for far too long. It was time now for total honesty.

While the tea brewed Andi wandered across the flat to the bedroom, stopping only to scoop up some washing draped across the back of the sofa rather than folded up, the way she always left it. So she was a bit of a neat freak? It wasn’t a crime!

Hang on, though, this was odd laundry. Tom’s tee shirt didn’t smell very clean and she sure he was wearing those Ralph Lauren shorts when she’d left for work that morning. And Andi didn’t recognise that bra...

There was a loud whooshing in her ears and the laminate floor dipped and rolled like a stormy sea. Andi clutched the sofa for support and for a hideous moment she thought she might pass out. That bra was hot pink and frilly. Andi’s head could fit in one of the cups, maybe even her entire body.

With a thudding heart she stepped forward and flung open the bedroom door.

“
Andi!” gasped Tom, when he caught sight of her over his shoulder. “This isn’t what you think!”

Andi couldn’t help it. She laughed. Unless this was a game of naked Twister and they’d forgotten to fetch the board, she was pretty certain it was
exactly
what she thought. Tom looked ridiculous with his boxers around his ankles and his naked buttocks poised in mid-air like peeled hard-boiled eggs. Beneath him, Gina from the flat below turned the same colour as her abandoned bra. She’d come home from work unexpectedly and caught her boyfriend shagging a girl with boobs as big as her head and the IQ of a lettuce. What a pathetic, sordid, obvious cliché.

Tom, scrabbling to his feet, hopped after Andi while attempting to yank up his boxers.

“Babe! Wait! Shit! Ouch!” In his haste he cannoned off the bedside table and head-butted the wall. Andi hoped it bloody well hurt. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

Andi whipped round. Suddenly the laughter subsided, replaced by a blast of anger as white hot as the reactive core of Sellafield. How dare he? She’d been slaving her guts out and having to tolerate slimes like Alan and bitchy Zoe just so that her boyfriend could hone his art in so-called Clapham – and in return he was screwing the neighbour, in between
Loose Women
and the lunchtime news.

“It’s exactly what it looks like! How long have you been shagging her?”

A hurt expression settled across Tom’s features.

“Babes, I know you’re not going to believe me but this is the first ever time. I swear it!”

He was right. Andi was not going to believe it.

“God, you’re pathetic,” she said.

“Come on, don’t be like this!” Tom finally tugged on his boxers. Gina was totally forgotten. “It’s a mistake! It doesn’t mean anything! What can I say to prove it means nothing?” He widened his eyes beseechingly before brightening visibly as an idea occurred. “I know! Of course! What else? Andi, sweetheart, I love you. Will you marry me?”

Was he totally insane? Who on earth got caught cheating and then proposed? It was like something from a bad soap opera. Then Andi remembered he’d been preparing for an
EastEnders
audition. Talk about method acting. In a moment he’d be telling her that they could go for a right old knees-up in the square and have a chat with Dot Cotton. Maybe they could even have a wedding reception in the Vic? Oh dear God. Had the last eighteen months with Tom been based on nothing more than him
acting
the part of her boyfriend?

“Get up, Tom,” Andi said wearily. “You’re being ridiculous. Of course I won’t marry you. I’ve just caught you screwing another woman.”

“But can explain! It doesn’t mean anything!”

There was a lump in Andi’s throat because it meant something to
her
. She balled her hands into fists, the nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep control. She knew things hadn’t been going well but nothing had prepared her for this.

“How long has it been going on?” she asked.

For a moment Tom paused, teetering on the brink of a lie, then he exhaled slowly. He could tell there was no way he could talk his way out of this one.

“A couple of months. Four? Maybe five? Since you started that Safe T Net
job. I never saw you once that began. You never have time for me these days, do you? All you care about is work.”

Andi felt like he’d punched her in guts. She’d been working for
them
! Every hour that she’d sweated over her computer had been about putting money towards their future. How deluded was she? Or perhaps Tom was a better actor than she’d given him credit for?

“And what about the money?” she demanded. “Don’t try and deny that you’ve cleared my accounts, either. You were the only person who knew those passwords.”

Tom shrugged. “I needed some funds quickly, babe. Den – you know Den, he has the garage near Penge – he’s got this Audi TT come in. It’s only a year old and it’s an absolute bargain. If I hadn’t been quick I would have missed a great deal. You’ll love it, babe. It’s bright red and a soft top.”

Andi stared at him. “Let me get this clear. You blew all my money and our rent on a
car
?”

Tom tilted his head in a winsome way. In fairness to him it was a look that had always worked in the past, but right now Andi could have cheerfully kicked him all day long.

“It will be great for the summer,” he continued, as though he hadn’t just been caught cheating and swindling. “I needed it too: taking cabs to all my auditions costs a fortune.”

Andi thought she was about to combust with fury. Tom’s taxi habit was already a bone of contention. Why he insisted on taking cabs when they lived practically in the sodding Tube station was a mystery. And now he’d stolen her money to buy a car? Who was going to tax it and insure it?

Muggins. That was who.

“I want my money back,” she said coldly.

Tom shrugged. “Cash deal, babe. You know Den. Don’t look like that. I’ll pay you back.”

“I need that money! It’s my money!” Andi couldn’t believe that she had just caught her boyfriend cheating and yet was more worried about the lost money than his infidelity. If she’d had the time to pause and think about it, this realisation would probably have made her feel a whole lot better.

“Car’s in my name.” Tom jingled a set of keys under her nose. “Prove it’s not yours.”

Behind them the door clicked shut, and seconds later Gina’s heavy tread thumped downstairs. Was she one of many? A sensation of dizziness threatened to swamp Andi and suddenly nothing mattered so much as getting him out of her space. The money could be dealt with but right now just the sight of him was suffocating.

“Pack your things and get out,” she said wearily.

Tom curled his lip. “You can’t kick me out. I live here too, remember?”

“It’s my name on the rental contract,” Andi shot back. “It had to be, remember? You have a worse credit rating than Greece.”

Tom couldn’t argue with this. Instead he gave her a pitying look. “You’re making a big mistake. Come on, baby, we’ve been together for ages now. Don’t throw it all away.”

Andi’s hands were on her hips. She didn’t think she’d ever felt this determined. “I didn’t throw it away: you did.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t overreact. Anyone can make a mistake. It was just a shag. I’m a man. I have needs. And let’s be honest, you hardly ever show any interest. All you ever do these days is fall asleep. What else am I supposed to do?”

Andi was working twelve hours a day to keep Tom and his Clarins habit. Of course she fell asleep when she got home. She was knackered.

But Tom, mistaking her outraged silence for agreement, was into his stride now. “Have you any idea of the pressure I’ve been under? It isn’t easy being an actor, you know. All you do is work and all you want to talk about is bloody Safe T Net.
At least Gina’s interested in what I have to say rather than going on about work or the sodding bills all the time.”

Andi was speechless.

“So in lots of ways this is your fault.” Tom sauntered to the sofa and picked up the Sky control. The arrogance of this gesture was compounded by his following words. “Be honest, Andi, if you’d been more committed to our relationship this would never have happened.”

And then Andi saw red: glorious, bright, furious scarlet. How dare he blame her? How dare he! Almost before her brain could figure out what was happening she was diving into the cupboard under the sink and pulling out bin bags. Seconds later she was in the wardrobe stuffing Tom’s designer gear into them. Turnbull & Asser shirts rubbed shoulders with Gaultier jackets, while Hugo Boss boxers were given a good kicking by Tommy Hilfiger socks. Then she stormed into the bathroom, swept all his products into the mix and dropped his new TAG Heuer watch down the loo. As far as Andi was concerned money down the bog was exactly what that latest ridiculous status symbol represented.

“What the hell are you doing, you crazy bitch? My bloody watch!”

Tom charged past and plunged his hand into the toilet bowl. Andi stood back and watched as he swirled his hand around in Bloo loo freshener. When he surfaced he looked like an extra from
Braveheart
.

“Pack your things,” she ordered. “Anything you don’t take I’ll put out for the dustmen.”

“Don’t worry, I’m out of here with pleasure,” Tom snarled as he crashed around the flat stuffing his belongings into bags. “I should have left months ago.”

Andi resisted pointing out that he wasn’t leaving so much as being thrown out. Packing finished, Tom dithered by the front door just in case she might have a change of heart. No such luck. He’d smashed that into pieces long ago.

“You’re making a big mistake,” he said.

Andi held out her hand for his door keys. Her biggest mistake was wasting nearly two years of her life on him and thinking they might have a future. Men only ever let you down. She wouldn’t ever make that error again.

“Face it, Andi,” Tom called over his shoulder, as he lugged his bags out of the door. “You’ll never find anyone like me again.”

“I hope you’re right,” Andi said fervently. “To meet two lying, cheating narcissists in one lifetime would be very bad luck indeed.”

Tom’s features twisted into an ugly expression. Why had she never noticed just how close together his eyes were before? Were his lips always so thin? Who was this man?

“You’ll regret speaking to me like that,” he spat, as with eyes narrowed and glinting with malice he humped his bags through the doorway. “And don’t think this is the end of it, either. I’ve got a few things up my sleeve, or rather on my hard drive, that I’m sure you’d rather stayed there. I’m not afraid to show everyone what you’re really like, Miss Oh-So-High-and-Mighty Perfect Accountant!”

Something in his tone of voice scraped a cold finger of unease down Andi’s spine.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.